UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


THE 


SAFEST    CREED 


AND 


TWELVE   OTHER  RECENT 


DISCOURSES   OF  REASON. 


BY 

OCTAVIUS  B.  FROTHINGHAM. 


NEW  YORK: 

ASA  K.  BUTTS  &  CO.,   PUBLISHERS, 

80  Dey  Street. 

1874. 


Langs,  Little  &  Co., 

PM.INTERS,    ELECTEOTYPERS    AND   STEREOTYPED, 

108  to  114  Wooster  Street,  N.  Y. 


JB"R 
F?3s 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


^J           I. — The  Safest  Creed 5 

1         II. — The  Radical  Belief 22 

4       III. — The  Radical's  Root 44 

J 

r        IV.— The  Joy  of  a  Free  Faith Gl 

«N 

V. — Living  Faith 77 

-£        VI. — The  Gospel  of  To-day 93 

VII. — The  Gospel  of  Character 110 

£      VIII. — The  Scientific  Aspect  of  Prayer 181 

IX.— The  Naked  Truth 149 

A           X. — T'he  Dying  and  the  Living  God 1GG 

p>         XL — TnE  Infernal  and  TnE  Celestial  Love 182 

XII. — The  Immortalities  of  Man 200 

XIII. — The  Victory  over  Death 220 


I. 

THE   SAFEST   CREED. 

r  |  THE  great  word  in  the  doctrinal  part  of  the  New  Test- 
-■-  anient  is  Salvation.  The  great  word  of  the  Protest- 
ant theology  is  Salvation.  Salvation  is  Safety.  Safety  is 
health.  "  Safe  and  sound,"  we  say ;  that  is  sound  which 
is  safe;  that  is  safe  which  is  sound.  Health  consists  in 
the  proper  adjustment  of  the  creature  to  his  conditions. 
Health  of  body  consists  in  this ;  it  is  a  perfect  under- 
standing between  the  body  and  its  material  surroundings, 
climate,  temperature,  food,  occupations.  The  physical 
constitution  is  safe  when  no  inherited  disease  undermines 
its  vitality  and  exposes  it  to  hidden  assault  from  within 
the  citadel,  and  when  no  ill-adjustment  of  circumstances 
threatens  it  with  malady. 

The  safety  of  the  mind  consists  in  a  harmonious  rela- 
tion with  the  intellectual  world,  which  assures  to  it  a 
healthful,  happy  activity,  undisturbed  by  tormenting 
doubt  or  disabling  fear,  uncramped  by  prejudices  that 
limit  inquiry,  or  bigotries  that  prevent  culture.  The 
safety  of  the  heart  consists  in  the  fortunate  direction  and 
felicitous  play  of  its  natural  affections.  In  what  does 
the  safety  of  the  soul  consist,  if  not  in  its  sense  of  secu- 
rity in  the  world  of  Providence,  its  trust  in  the  Eternal? 

The  safe  creed  is  the  desirable  one,  as  all  will  acknowl- 
edge. Salvation  under  some  form  is  what  all  demand  of 
their  faith.  Smile  as  we  will  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
statement,  to  the  multitude  there  is  great  force  in  the  ar- 
gument as  put  by  the  "  evangelical "  to  the  rationalist, 


6  THE  SAFEST  CREED. 

thus :  "  Whether  you  be  right  or  not,  I,  at  all  events,  am 
on  the  safe  side.  If  I  am  -wrong  in  my  belief,  no  harm 
can  befall  me  in  consequence  ;  all  that  the  unbeliever  has 
is  mine.  But  if  you  are  wrong,  your  soul  is  in  peril. 
~No  penalty  is  attached  to  the  rejection  of  your  creed; 
the  rejection  of  mine  brings  the  penalty  of  everlasting 
damnation." 

Salvation  is  commonly  associated  with  a  future  state ; 
if  it  were  not,  it  would  possess  no  religious  significance. 
The  safety  sought  is  safety  after  death,  not  before.  The 
creed  is  a  policy  of  insurance  against  fire  hereafter,  the 
fire  being  certain,  and  the  validity  of  the  policy  being 
guaranteed  by  the  Lord  of  the  Universe  himself.  If  this 
were  so,  if  these  two  grand  assumptions  could  be  main- 
tained, all  debate  would  be  at  an  end.  But  this  is  the 
very  matter  in  controversy.  If  we  knew  anything  about 
this  hell,  its  reality,  its  place,  its  nature  ;  if  we  had  reason 
to  believe  that  it  was  a  strange,  unprecedented,  uncon- 
jecturable  condition,  the  laws  whereof  had  no  relation  to 
the  laws  of  our  terrestrial  sphere — a  condition  in  which, 
for  example,  people  walked  on  their  heads,  ate  with  their 
ears,  thought  with  their  stomachs,  worshiped  with  their 
collar  bones,  or  by  any  other  arrangement  reversed  the 
rules  we  are  guided  by  in  our  present  life ;  if,  in  a»word, 
salvation,  safety,  or  health,  there,  meant  something  very 
different  from  what  we  have  in  mind  when  we  speak  of 
safety  or  health — we  might  listen  to  the  theologian,  and 
take  his  prescription.  But  seeing  that  nobody  knows 
anything  about  hell,  not  even  whether  there  be  such  a 
place  ;  seeing  that  the  future  after  death  is  all  an  uncer- 
tainty, whereof  we  have  no  definite  account ;  seeing  that, 
in  all  our  experience,  to-day  is  the  child  of  yesterday  and 
the  parent  of  to-morrow,  and  therefore  the  future,  how- 


TEE  SAFEST  CREED.  7 

ever  long,  must  be  the  result  of  the  present,  the  "next  life 
of  this  life,  and  the  hereafter  of  the  here — it  may  fairly 
be  assumed  that  salvation  must  be  the  same  thing  in 
either  state  ;  what  is  safety  in  the  one  will  be  safety  in  the 
other;  sanity  will  everywhere  be  sanity,  and  health  will 
everywhere  be  health.  No  person  can  be  lost  hereafter 
who  is  saved  now.  The  healthy  soul  can  have  no  fear  of 
perdition.  This  is  what  Father  Taylor  had  in  mind 
when  he  made  the  oft-quoted  remark  touching  Mr.  Em- 
erson, "  lie  cannot  go  to  heaven,  for  he  is  no  Christian ; 
but  what  would  they  do  with  him  in  hell  ?  He  would 
change  the  climate ;  he  would  turn  the  tide  of  emigration 
that  way." 

It  follows,  then,  that  the  present  is  our  only  concern. 
The  safest  creed  is  that  which  gives  the  best  guarantee 
of  mental  security  under  actual  circumstances.  What 
this  is  it  may  be  difficult  in  detail  to  say ;  it  would  be 
rash  to  undertake  even  in  general  terms  to  describe  it ;  for 
the  laws  of  health  are  not  laid  down  finally  in  regard  to 
the  body  ;  much  less  can  they  be  laid  down  for  the  mind. 
We  are  in  the  stage  of  experiment  here ;  all  is  crude, 
almost  chaotic.  The  rational  method  has  not,  as  yet, 
been  applied  to  the  problem ;  the  wisest  men  are  students ; 
the  most  experienced  are  seekers.  I  have  no  mind  to  be 
dogmatic,  and  am  more  disposed  to  consider  the  gen- 
eral elements  of  safety  and  of  peril  than  to  declare  the 
rules  for  entering  the  one,  or  avoiding  the  other.  But  if 
safety  consists  in  the  natural  and  harmonious  adjust- 
ment of  the  mind  to  its  surroundings,  certain  positions 
may  be  taken  with  a  good  deal  of  confidence. 

There  is  small  risk  in  declaring,  for  instance,  that  no 
creed  is  safe  that  has  insecure  foundations;  for  the  re- 
moval of  the  foundations  will  endanger  the  creed,  though 


8  THE  SAFEST  CREED. 

it  be  of  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful.  St.  Peter's  it- 
self would  fall  were  its  supports  to  give  way  ;  neither  the 
grandeur  of  its  dome,  nor  the  loveliness  of  its  decorations, 
nor  the  richness  of  its  shrines,  would  save  it.  The  might- 
iest mind  crumbles  under  the  influence  of  inherited  dis- 
ease. 

Now  the  creed  of  Christendom  does  rest  on  insecure 
foundations. 

One  of  these  is  Pkophecy.  Prom  first  to  last,  believers 
have  been  disposed  to  rest  their  faith  on  this  argument, 
that  the  Old  Testament  prefigures  the  New,  that  the 
prophets  foretold  the  Christ.  Instances  are  brought  to 
prove  that  ages  before  Jesus  appeared,  his  coming,  his 
character,  even  the  main  incidents  of  his  career,  particu- 
larly his  miraculous  birth  and  his  tragic  death,  were  pre- 
dicted ;  it  is  asserted  that  no  effort  of  human  reason  would 
have  availed  to  lift  this  heavy  curtain  of  the  future,  that 
it  must  have  been  miraculously  withdrawn ;  and  it  is 
claimed  that  the  correspondence  between  the  prophecy 
and  the  result  is  perfect,  and,  this  being  the  case,  nothing 
remains  but  to  accept  the  system  thus  authenticated. 

But  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  this  proof  of 
prophecy  has  given  way,  utterly.  Scholarship  has  under- 
mined it;  criticism  has  thrown  it  down.  Discredit  lias 
been  brought  upon  every  process  of  the  argument.  The 
correspondence  between  the  event  and  the  prediction  is 
denied;  the  very  fact  of  the  prediction  is  called  in  ques- 
tion. When  tried  by  historical  and  literary  tests,  the 
whole  claim  fails  to  justify  itself.  This  fact  has  not  been 
extensively  divulged  as  yet;  the  news  has  not  been  widely 
spread;  the  intelligence  is  confined  to  the  comparatively 
small  company  of  the  investigators,  and  those  interested 
in  the  investigation.     Put  to  these  it  is  familiar  knowl- 


THE  SAFEST  CREED.  9 

edge;  and  they  are  beginning  to  communicate  it  by  con- 
versation and  writing.  Before  very  long  the  tidings  will 
be  generally  made  known ;  and  then  what  is  likely  to 
happen?  The  faith  of  many  will  be  shaken.  Belief  will 
be  succeeded  by  unbelief,  confidence  by  suspicion,  trust 
by  despair.  The  disease  of  suspicion  will  seize  on  the 
common  mind;  reason  will  not  be  listened  to;  the  heart 
will  refuse  to  be  comforted;  souls  will  feel  that  they 
have  lost  their  hold  on  the  eternal  wisdom.  Such  has^ 
been  the  history  of  multitudes  already,  and  such  is  des- 
tined to  be  the  history  of  multitudes  more. 

Another  proof  is  Miracle  ;  and  this  is  one  of  the 
strongest.  But  this,  like  the  other,  has  fallen,  though  the 
noise  of  the  ruin  has  not  yet  startled  the  inattentive  ear. 
Not  only  has  each  separate  miracle  been  analyzed  and  re-  * 
solvecljnto  natural  elements,  the  principle  that  lies  at  the  v 
ground  of  all  miraculous  belief,  the  principle  of  suspend-  — 
ed  law,  is,  by  the  foremost  thmkefs~~and  writers  of  the 
ageTrepudiated.  The  distinction  between  the  Bible  mir- 
acles and  other  legends  has  been  obliterated ;  all  stories 
of  miracle  have  been  brought  under  one  general  classifi- 
cation ;  the  causes  of  the  growth  of  legends  have  been 
investigated  ;  the  conditions  of  belief  in  prodigies  have 
been  examined ;  the  natural  history,  so  to  speak,  of  mar- 
vel has  been  studied  so  carefully  that  for  every  specimen 
a  place  has  been  found,  and  a  name  invented.  And  the 
result  of  it  all  is  that  the  argument  from  miracle  is  pro- 
nounced worthless. 

The  discovery  has  proved  most  disastrous  to  those 
who  made  miracle — miracles  in  general,  or  special  mir- 
acles in  particular — the  corner-stone  of  their  belief. 
Some  have  dropped  into  atheism  and  materialism.  Con- 
sider, for    example,  the    melancholy  case    of  those  who 

1* 


10  THE  SAFEST  CEEED. 

build  their  belief  in  an  infinite  mind  on  tlie  fact  of  mir- 
acle. There  are  some  who  do  this.  There  arc  some 
who  declare  that  their  only  escape  from  the  creed  of 
Fatalism  is  through  the  persuasion  that  Elijah  called 
down  lire  from  heaven,  or  that  Jesus  came  into  the  world 
differently  from  other  mortals,  or  that  at  his  command 
Lazarus  came  forth  alive  from  the  grave  in  which  he  had 
lain  four  clays,  or  that  he  himself  on  the  third  day  from 
.his  crucifixion  rose  from  the  dead  and  appeared  visibly 
and  palpably  to  his  friends.  Facts  like  these,  they  say, 
testify  to  the  existence  of  a  God  superior  to  Nature;  and 
if  such  facts  are  denied,  the  existence  of  a  God  superior 
to  Nature  falls  into  disrepute ;  so  vanish  all  the  hopes 
and  faiths,  the  aspirations  and  the  consolations,  that  ac- 
company the  sublime  creed  of  the  Theist. 

But  these  facts  are  denied,  and  are  likely  to  be  called 
in  question  more  and  more  widely,  and  more  and  more 
roughly.  The  set  of  the  human  intellect  is  against  them, 
and  will  be  more  and  more  against  them.  The  thinking 
people  are  incredulous,  and  the  thinking  people  are  in- 
creasing in  numbers  daily.  Men  are  feeling,  and  are 
living  as  though  they  felt,  that  the  world  they  live  in  is 
a  world  of  law.  The  material  universe  proclaims  law  in 
every  part  of  its  domain  :  the  stars  in  their  faithful 
courses,  the  sun  in  its  rising  and  going  down,  the  seasons 
in  their  beauteous  alternation,  the  plants  in  their  growth, 
animals  in  their  development — all  attest  the  rule  of  law. 
In  their  practical  existence  men  assume  law;  the  con- 
duct of  life  presupposes  it ;  business  is  grounded  on  it ; 
enterprise  rests  on  it ;  all  social  arrangements  take  it  for 
granted ;  calculations,  statistics,  combinations  of  all 
kinds,  demand  it.  The  numberless  insurance  offices  rest 
on  law.     This  practical  assumption,  which  is    fixed  and 


THE  SAFEST  CREED.  H 

unlimited  in  secular  affairs,  lias  not  yet,  to  any  very  mani- 
fest extent,  touched  the  domain  of  religious  credence  ; 
but  it"  will  reach  it  soon;  it  is  hastening  that  way,  and 
when  it  sweeps  over  this  field  as  it  already  sweeps  over 
the  field  of  practical  existence,  they  who  trusted  in  mir- 
acle will  he  made  desolate.  Safety  demands  the  instant 
removal  of  all  spiritual  treasures  from  such  exposed  pre- 
cincts. The  building  totters.  Happy  they  who  have 
nothing  they  prize  there ! 

The  case  is  still  sadder  when  the  heart  is  touched. 
How  shall  we  describe  the  rashness  of  people  who  build 
their  faith  in  immortality  on.  the  resurrection  of  Jesus, 
.  hanging  all  their  hopes  of  a  hereafter  on  a  cord  of  tradi- 
tion two  thousand  years  long,  attached  at  one  end  to  a 
fragment  of  literature  at.  which  a  hundred  sharp-toothed 
critics  are  nibbling  ;  snapping  all  tethers  beside,  casting 
off  as  useless  the  stays  which  the  soul  offers,  rejecting 
with  scorn  the  helps  which  the  heart  throws  out,  disdain- 
ing to  touch  the  lines  stretched  by  history  and  philoso- 
phy, and  suspending  the  full  weight  of  the  future  world 
on  a  thread  which  runs  across  deserts  and  beneath  oceans, 
and  is  exposed  to  the  incessant  friction  of  mind  all  along 
its  course  !  •  Can  any  but  madmen  take  such  risk  ?  The 
cord  snaps,  and  the  faith  is  gone ;  the  ship  of  the  soul 
drifts  away  into  the  inane  ;  darkness  gathers  about  the 
drifting  spirits;  the  vessel,  freighted  with  the  heart's 
most  precious  treasures  of-  hope,  drives  away  into  the 
darkness  and  never  is  seen  more.  To  confound  the  sup- 
ports of  a  faith  with  the  faith  itself,  to  make  the  founda- 
tions part  of  the  faith,  is  the  height  of  unwisdom.  The 
early  Christians  accounted  for  the  fact  that  there  were 
four  gospels,  and  no  more,  by  analogy  with  two  other 
facts :  one  that  there   were   four  main  divisions  of  the 


12  THE  SAFEST  CREED. 

earth,  the  other  that  the  four  winds  blew  from  four  points 
of  the  compass.  The  argument  was  satisfactory  to  them 
in  the  condition  of  their  knowledge  of  geography  ;  but 
if  they  had  made  their  geography  a  constituent  part  of 
their  faith,  what  would  have  become  of  the  gospel  records 
by  this  time  ?  A  Greek  proverb  says  that  God  hangs 
the  heaviest  weights  on  the  smallest  wires.  But  he  al- 
ways makes  sure  that  the  wires  are  strong  enough  to  sus- 
tain the  weights.  It  is  not  quite  safe  for  men  to  try  the 
experiment.  Their  wisdom  rather  consists  in  a  very  ex- 
act adjustment  of  wires  to  weights.  A  wise  saying  warns 
people  against  trusting  all  their  eggs  to  one  basket. 
When  our  ships  put  to  sea,  the^  provide  boats  in  case  of 
shipwreck ;  they  take  extra  bolts,  chains  and  tackle, 
against  the  exigency  of  disaster  to  the  machinery.  If 
one  anchor  or  cable  gives  way,  the  ship  need  not  be  lost. 
Would  we  expose  the  mind  to  risks  we  carefully  guard 
the  person  from  ? 

Protestanism  grounds  its  faith  on  the  Scriptures. 
"  The  Bible,  and  the  Bible  only,  is  the  religion  of  Prot- 
estants." If  the  Bible  were  another  name  for  the  Rock 
of  Ages,  no  piece  of  literature  subject  to  literary  laws 
and  literary  criticism,  but  a  monument  of  the  divine  in- 
telligence, a  fragment  of  intellectual  adamant,  on  which 
Time  can  only  break  his  teeth,  and  the  storms  of  a  thou- 
sand centuries  make  no  impression,  this  foundation  would 
be  safe,  and  to  build  on  it  would  be  wise.  But  we  all 
know  that  the  Bible  is  nothing  of  this  kind  ;  that  it  is  a 
book,  the  product  of  human  intelligence,  written  in 
human  speech,  marked  all  over  with  traces  of  human 
speculation.  We  all  know  that  it  holds  its  place  in  the 
line  of  mental  development ;  that  it  belongs  to  the  litera- 
ture of  a  race,  to  the   literature   of  a  single  race.     We 


THE  SAFEST  CREED.  13 

know  that  the  scholarship  of  the  last  two  hundred  years 
has  made  havoc  with  the  doctrine  of  its  infallible  inspira- 
tion, and  effectually  destroyed  its  claim  to  be  considered 
a  miraculous  volume. 

Is  it  safe,  then,  to  stake  the  highest  moral  and  spiritual 
interests  of  man,  the  faith  in  God,  the  faith  in  humanity, 
the  faith  in  the  moral  law,  the  faith  in  providence,  the 
faith  in  the  soul's  future,  on  anything  so  precarious  as  a 
single  collection  of  documents  ?  to  stake  these  vast  con- 
cerns,  we  may  say,  on  the  interpretation  of  a  chapter 
or  the  rendering  of  a  text,  on  the  reading  of  a  comment- 
ator, the  conjecture  of  a  philologist,  the  decision  of  a 
new  grammar  or  dictionary  ?  a  faith  that  a  Gesenius  or 
a  Max  Miiller  may  undermine,  that  a  Strauss  or  a  Renan 
may  sap  ;  is  that  a  faith  for  men  to  put  their  trust  in  ? 
That  thousands  do  put  their  trust  in  it  is  all  too  plain, 
and  the  sorrow  that  comes  of  it,  the  unbelief  and  de- 
spair, when  the  proof  they  deemed  immovable  is  shaken, 
testify  to  the  folly  of  their  proceeding.  The  assaults  on 
the  Bible  have  been  taken  as  assaults  on  religion,  and 
religion  has  crumbled  when  the  Bible  has  given  way 
under  attack.  The  snapping  of  that  single-stranded  cord 
has  put  in  jeopardy  the  whole  celestial  freight. 

The  Romanist  exults  in  the  catastrophe.  It  is  just 
what  I  predicted,  he  says,  it  could  not  be  otherwise. 
"  The  Bible  is  a  book  ;  if  you  allow  people  to  read  it  for 
themselves,  they  will  read  it  variously  ;  in  the  multitude 
of  interpretations  the  sense  will  be  lost,  controversies  will 
arise,  sects- will  spring  up  from  the  controversies  ;  the 
unity  of  the  faith  will  be  broken,  the  harmony  of  the 
spirit  will  be  destroyed,  the  authority  of  the  Word  will 
be  lost,  the  assurance  of  the  soul's  destiny  will  be  taken 
away,  and  skepticism,  unbelief,  rationalism,  materialism, 


14  THE  SAFEST  CREED. 

atheism,  will  come  in  like  a  flood.  Experience  proves 
the  truth  of  the  prophecy.  Under  Protestantism,  Chris- 
tianity is  running  out ;  religion  itself  is  perishing  ;  it  has 
come  to  its  last  term,  the  next  step  will  be  into  utter 
atheism." 

"  The  only  safety,"  the  Romanist  goes  on  to  say,  "  is 
the  Church  that  never  changes  ;  that  is  the  same  yester- 
day, to-day  and  forever ;  that  is,  indeed,  founded  on  a 
rock  ;  older  than  the  New  Testament,  resting  on  apostles 
and  evangelists,  Jesus  Christ  himself  being  the  chief  cor- 
nerstone, it  is  unassailable  by  the  forces  of  the  enemy. 
The  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it."  But  have 
there  been  no  departures  from  the  Church?  Does  the 
Church  really  stand  the  test  of  criticism  ?  Is  there  no 
such  thing  as  history  ?  and  does  history  justify  the 
churchman's  claim  of  divine  authority  for  his  institution  % 
Is  the  Church  purely  and  demonstrably  the  work  of 
Divine  Providence  ?  Have  human  wit  and  witlessness, 
human  will  and  willfulness,  had  no  part  in  its  creation  ? 
Does  its  story,  from  beginning  to  end,  justify  its  title  to 
rule  over  the  consciences,  and  prescribe  the  faith,  and 
lead  the  hopes  of  mankind?  Has  it  never  been  a  story 
of  diplomacy  savoring  of  cunning,  of  authority  asserting 
itself  as  despotism  and  making  itself  chargeable  with 
bloody  crimes,  of  privilege  to  teach  used  for  the  purpose 
of  fastening  on  the  minds  of  men  dogmas  like  that  of  the 
Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  the  in- 
fallibility of  the  Vicar  of  Christ  * 

The  Church  has  not  proved  to  be  a  safe  refuge.     The 
desertions  from  it  on  account  of   ite  well-known  onsea-_ 
worthiness,  have  been  by  Hie  hundred  thousand,  and  it 
is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that,  of  those   that   have 
abandoned  it,  a  great  multitude  have  lapsed    into    utter 


THE  SAFEST  CREED.  15 

irreligion.  Everything  goes  down  with  that  one  bark. 
Look  at  the  condition  of  Italy  ;  look  at  the  condition  of 
Spain;  both  countries  where  Romanism  has  been  supreme, 
both  countries  in  which  Romanism  has  been  identified 
with  religion.  The  type  of  disbelief  in  these  two  lands 
is  of  the  most  stubborn  and  deadly  kind.  The  religious 
sentiment  seems  well-nigh  dead  there.  Atheism,  in  the 
dreariest  form,  abounds  ;  materialism,  of  the  most  literal 
and  prosaic  description,  is  common  ;  the  interest  in  what 
we  call  spiritual,  that  is,  in  ideal  tilings,  has  so  far  de- 
clined as  to  be  regarded  with  pity  and  even  with  ridicule, 
as  the  remnant  of  an  outgrown  superstition.  The  world 
has  lost  its  poetic  aspect,  life  has  lost  its  poetical  expres- 
sion. The  sensual  element  is  getting  the  upper  hand ; 
politics  are  all  engrossing,  and  the  tone  of  politics  is  low. 

The  Romanist  admits  all  this,  and  cries :  "  See  the 
effect  of  leaving  the  Church  !  See  what  comes  of  aban- 
doning the  only  ark  of  safety  ! "  Yes,  but  the  evil  hap- 
pens because  the  people  were  taught  that  the  Church 
was  the  only  ark  of  safety  ;  and  when  they  left  it,  as  they 
needs  must,  it  having  become  impossible  for  them  to  re- 
main in  it  longer  as  honest  people,  there  was  no  alterna- 
tive but  drowning.  They  had  no  lifeboats,  and  had  never 
learned  to  swim  or  float  in  the  open  sea. 

No  creed  is  safe  that  rests  on  a  single  foundation, 
however  ancient  and  imposing.  The  moment  comes 
when  the  swiftly  flowing  river  of  time  loosens  the  corner- 
stone, and  then  the  whirling  travelers  are  plunged  into 
an  abyss.  The  safety  of  rationalism  consists  in  its  ability 
to  use  all  supports  and  adapt  itself  to  all  emergencies ; 
its  Lands  are  free,  it  is  foot-loose  ;  it  has  full  possession 
of  its  powers,  and  full  command  of  the  field  for  their  ex- 
ercise.    It  is  never  without  resources,  it.  cannot   be   re- 


16  THE  SAFEST  CREED. 

duced  to  extremity ;  it  cannot  be  driven  into  a  corner. 
If  one  reliance  gives  way,  it  has  a  dozen  to  fall  back  on  ; 
if  one  argument  fails,  it  shifts  its  position  to  another.  It 
has  trenches  within  trenches,  lines  within  lines,  walls  be- 
hind walls.  Take  away  the  Old  Testament,  it  has  the 
New ;  take  away  the  Bible,  it  has  the  sacred  writings  of 
other  races ;  invalidate  these,  it  has  the  religious  senti- 
ment to  which  all  Scriptures  give  expression ;  throw 
doubt  on  the  religious  sentiment,  it  has  recourse  to  the 
facts  of  human  experience,  as  revealed  by  the  history  of 
nations,  and  the  result  of  individual  lives  ;  it  appeals  to 
the  long  line  of  tradition  common  to  the  race  of  man — 
traditions  of  worship  and  faith,  of  moral  obedience  and 
fidelity,  of  sweetest  trust  and  sublimest  anticipation  ;  call 
these  in  question,  it  takes  up  the  method  of  science, 
and  shows  how  divine  things  are  wrought  into  the  very 
texture  of  the  material  world ;  does  the  scientific  man 
protest  against  the  use  made  of  his  apparatus,  rational- 
ism retreats  to  the  stronghold  of  philosophy  from  which 
it  cannot  be  dislodged. 

The  rationalist  fears  nothing.  "  If  his  bark  sink,  'tis 
to  another  sea,"  whose  waters  are  more  tranquil,  whose 
gales  are  less  violent,  whose  shores  are  not  rough  with 
reefs  that  menace  the  mariner  with  destruction.  So  far 
as  ports  of  refuge  are  concerned,  his  is  the  safest  creed. 

I  contend  that  it  is  the  safest,  too,  from  its  own  con- 
stitution. It  has  no  articles  that  are  put  in  jeopardy  by 
the  action  of  human  nature  in  its  normal  movements. 
It  teaches  no  dogmas  that  are  at  variance  with  the  es- 
tablished laws  of  reason.  Its  God  is  not  a  larger  man, 
with  human  limitations  and  infirmities,  subject  to  emo- 
tions as  we  are,  a  mechanician,  a  contriver,  a  person 
conducting  the  affairs  of  the  universe  by  methods  of  di- 


THE  SAFEST  CREED.  17 

plornacy,  resorting  to  expedients,  altering  and  suspending 
his  own  laws,  repairing  his  own  handiwork,  showing  par- 
tiality in  his  treatment  of  his  children,  granting  to  some 
the  fullness  of  light  and  leaving  others  in  total  darkness, 
electing  special  tribes  and  individuals  to  glory  and  doom- 
ing others  to  perdition.  Rationalism  regards  God  as 
truly  the  Infinite  and  Eternal,  and  interprets  him  by  the 
largest  constructions  that  the  human  mind  can  put  on 
his  works,  stripping  off  whatever  is  offensive  to  the  finest 
intelligence  and  winning  thought  to  the  conception  of 
him  instead  of  repelling  it,  thus  making  human  reason 
its  friend. 

It  does  not  deify  an  individual ;  it  does  not  vilify  the 
race;  it  casts  no  aspersion  on  the  natural  faculties,  but 
puts  itself  as  cordially  as  possible  in  communication  with 
the  wisest,  the  profoundest,  the  most  sagacious  of  earth's 
thinkers.  There  is  no  danger,  therefore,  that  the  march  of 
mind  will  sweep  it  out  of  the  way  or  leave  it  behind  in 
the  distance.  It  has  not  to  defend  itself  against  history, 
science,  or  philosophy ;  they  are  its  defenders.  The 
single  circumstance  of  its  being  unwilling  to  commit  it- 
self to  any  single  statement  or  delinition,  its  willingness  to 
shape  and  reshape  its  formulas  in  accordance  with  the 
growing  intelligence  of  the  race,  its  creedlessness,  in 
other  words,  is  a  great  safeguard.  Its  confidence  in  the 
spirit  of  truth  is  worth  a  thousand  confidences  in  separate 
opinions,  for  the  spirit  of  truth  drops  its  forms  as  fast  as 
they  become  useless  or  obsolete,  and  leaves  on  all  the 
bushes  by  the  wayside  the  cast-off  skins  of  its  creeds. 

Nearly  every  dogma  of  theology — it  is  safe  to  say  every 
dogma  of  the  popular  theology — stands  to-day  on  the  de- 
fensive against  the  prevailing  reason  of  the  age.  Trinity, 
Deity  of  Christ,  Atonement,  Election,  Justification,  Hell 


18  THE  SAFEST  CREED. 

and  Heaven,  all  are  in  this  painful  category.  The  first 
principles  of  revealed  religion  are  challenged.  They  who 
hold  them  are  in  danger  of  defeat,  and  defeat,  in  hun- 
dreds of  cases,  implies,  the  loss  of  everything  dear 
to  the  religious  mind.  Surely  that  is  the  safest  creed 
which  can  venture  to  cast  off  its  armor,  and  throw  its 
weapons  down,  and  consort  peacefully  with  thoughtful 
people,  and  feel  secure  in  the  honest  sympathy  of  earnest, 
liberal  men. 

But  rationalism  has  a  stronger  guarantee  of  safety  yet, 
in  that  it  puts  itself  in  friendliest  relations  with  the  hu- 
man heart.  Here,  indeed,  is  a  fortress  from  which  it  can- 
not be  dislodged.  Its  idea  of  the  essential  rectitude  of 
human  nature  propitiates  the  instinctive  feelings  of  all 
men;  its  faith  in  progress  commends  itself  to  the  earnest 
approval  of  all  who  cherish  noble  hopes  for  their  kind ; 
its  faith  in  the  vital  unity  of  mankind  comes  home  to  all 
philanthropists  and  reformers,  to  all  industrial  and  other 
workers  at  the  social  problems  that  exercise  the  mind  of 
the  generation ;  its  faith  in  the  past  authenticates  every 
grand  character  and  sanctifies  every  glorious  memory;  its 
faith  in  the  present  is  stimulating  to  every  fine  purpose  ; 
its  faith  in  the  future  encourages  every  far-seeing  antici- 
pation ;  its  faith  in  the  long  future,  in  the  hereafter,  en- 
lists the  sympathies  of  those  who  live  in  their  dreams  of 
affection.  Rationalism,  in  fact,  deserves  more  than  any 
other  to  be  called  the  religion  of  the  heart,  because  it  le- 
gitimates most  completely  the  heart's  vital  desires. 

Can  this  be  claimed  for  the  faith  of  Christendom  ? 
Can  it  be  claimed  for  the  doctrine  of  human  inability  \ 
Can  it  be  claimed  for  the  doctrine  of  regeneration  ?  Can 
it  be  claimed  for  the  doctrine  of  immortality,  which  limits 
the  boon  to  Christian  believers,  and  even  to  the  compar» 


TEE  SAFEST  CREED.  19 

• 

atively  small  class  of  Christian  believers  who  have  ex- 
perienced the  supernatural  change  which  entitles  them  to 
the  blessedness  of  the  redeemed,  the  rest  being  cast  into 
the  outer  darkness,  where  the  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth  is  incessant,  where  the  worm  dieth  not,  and  the 
fire  is  not  quenched  % 

The  popular  doctrine  of  the  hereafter  cannot  be  aban- 
doned by  those  who  hold  the  other  points  of  the  "  evan- 
gelical "  creed,  for  it  supposes  them  all.  It  is  to  effect 
the  rescue  of  the  entire  human  family  from  hell  that  the 
scheme  of  salvation  was  devised  ;  and  if  the  hell  is  abol- 
ished, or  reduced  in  compass,  or  mitigated  in  character, 
if  it  is  altered  in  any  respect,  the  scheme  of  salvation  is 
unnecessary  ;  the  atonement  is  needless,  the  incarnation 
loses  its  purpose ;  the  Church,  as  an  institution,  has  no 
reason  for  being.  Therefore  the  great  preachers  of 
"evangelical "  religion  cleave  to  the  doctrine  in  all  its 
original  features.  They  stir  up  the  flames,  re-animate 
the  demons,  and  proclaim  the  destiny  of  everlasting  fire 
to  the  unbelievers.  In  so  doing  they  are  consistent  and 
logical.  They  cannot  do  otherwise  and  maintain  their 
position. 

But  they  have  the  human  heart  against  them.  All  deep- 
ly feeling  men  and  women  struggle,  writhe,  and,  if  they 
do  not  rebel,  bleed.  That  the  heart  of  man  consents  to 
entertain  the  belief  in  a  hereafter  under  such  conditions, 
and  with  such  an  understanding,  is  a  mystery.  Does  it  ? 
Does  not  the  heart's  steady,  firm,  unanimous  protest  op- 
erate as  the  most  stubborn  and  formidable  foe  to  the  ex- 
tension of  the  whole  "  evangelical "  faith  %  It  is  hard  to 
overcome  the  resistance  of  reason  to  doctrines  that  seem 
inconsistent  with  the  first  principles  of  thought ;  but  to 
overcome  the  opposition  of  the  natural  affections  to  doc- 


20  TEE  SAFEST  CREED. 

trines  that  outrage  natural  feeling  is  more  than  all 
churches  and  preachers  can  do.  For  my  part,  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  say,  nor  should  I  think  that  any  reasonable 
man  would  hesitate  to  say,  that  he  would  be  a  benefactor 
of  his  race  who  would  deliver  people  from  the  popular 
doctrine  of  the  hereafter,  even  at  the  expense  of  denying 
any  hereafter.  If  immortality  is  to  be  a  helpless  and 
unmitigated  curse  to  anybody,  then  annihilation  would 
be  a  boon  to  all.  So  says  the  heart,  instructed  in  the 
humanities  by  the  worthiest  teachers.  The  heart  of  man 
would  prefer  to  have  no  future  if  it  is  not  promised  a 
future  which  it  can  load  with  hope.  To  the  heart,  the 
future  means  hope  ;  it  is  the  land  of  hope.  We  may 
fashion  the  form  of  the  hope  to  suit  our  own  anticipation, 
desire,  or  longing,  but  hope  it  must  be  still.  A  hopeless 
future  is  something  inconceivable.  They  who  despair  of 
the  hereafter  make  despair  a  kind  of  hope  ;  they  enjoy 
a  "  luxury  of  woe."  But  they  who  live  on  that  luxury 
probably  look  no  further  than  annihilation.  The  luxury 
of  endless  burning,  either  for  himself  or  Iris  friends,  it 
may  safely  be  assumed  that  no  mortal  ever  dwelt  on  in 
fancy. 

No  creed  is  safe  that  places  itself  in  antagonism  to  the 
natural  human  heart.  Sooner  or  later  it  must  go  down. 
The  heart  will  triumph  ;  and  it  will  triumph  by  either  con- 
verting the  creed  or  destining  it.  In  this  case,  conver- 
sion is  destruction.  To  abolish  hell  is  to  reconstruct  the 
spiritual  universe;    and  this  is  the  work  that  is  going  on. 

It  is  often  said  of  rationalists  that  they  are  "all  out  at 
sea."  It  is  true,  they  are,  and  they  rejoice  in  being  so. 
Out  on  the  wide  ocean  of  truth  they  are  safe.  There  they 
have  the  benefit  of  all  the  winds  that  blow,  and  room 
enough;   no  sunken  rocks  threaten;   no  fog-covered  reef 


THE  SAFEST  CREED.  21 

endangers;  above  them  is  the  whole  canopy  of  the  heav- 
ens. The  navigator  dreads  the  coast.  He  keeps  off 
shore  in  a  storm.  Tew  ships  are  lost  in  the  open  sea.  The 
coast  line  has  the  perils. 

The  rationalist  dreads  definitions,  doubles  the  watch 
when  approaching  land,  and  looks  out  for  breakers.  He 
is  on  the  voyage.  His  ship  is  built  for  the  ocean,  not  for 
the  dock,  and  out  on  the  ocean  he  is  at  home.  Arrival  is 
necessary,  no  ship  is  always  at  sea,  but  arrival  is  inciden- 
tal and  occasional.  He  touches  port  that  he  may  put 
out  to  sea  again,  and  be  in  company  with  Him,  "  Whose 
being  is  a  great  deep." 


n. 

THE   KADICAL  BELIEF. 

Having  the  same  Spirit  of  Faith,  in  which  one  said,  "I  believed  and 
therefore  spoke,"  we  also  believe  and  therefore  speak. — 2  Cor.  iv.  13. 

r  I  1HESE  are  words  of  Paul,  the  one  doubted,  suspected, 
persecuted  apostle  ;  the  outsider  who  came  Inside  on 
grounds  against  which  many  protested;  the  insider  who 
carried  outside  a  faith  which  many  repudiated ;  the 
man  who  announced  the  gospel  of  the  spirit  and  preached 
justification  by  faith  alone,  and  at  the  same  time  declared 
that  he  worshiped  the  God  of  his  fathers,  "after  the 
maimer  called  heresy."  He  believed  and  therefore  spoke. 
If  he  had  not  believed,  he  would  not  have  spoken,  for  he 
would  have  had  nothing  to  say.  All  earnest  speech  is 
uttered  in  faith.  In  faith  all  good  work  is  done.  Unbe- 
lief has  no  gospel,  makes  no  confession,  frames  no  creed, 
organizes  no  worship,  brings  no  sacrifice.  If  men  deem 
it  worth  their  while  to  preach,  will  do  the  amount  of 
studying  and  thinking  that  qualifies  them  for  it,  are 
prepared  for  the  many  difficulties,  discouragements,  re- 
buffs, misunderstandings,  misrepresentations,  and  humil- 
iations that  attend  it,  show  themselves  ready  to  submit  to 
the  disabilities  and  sacrifices  that  so  thankless  an  office 
entails,  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  they  have  something 
to  say  that  is  very  dear  to  them,  and  is,  in  their  judgment, 
very  important  to  their  neighbors.  If  they  seem  to  be 
deniers,  they  only  seem  so  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  fail 
to  recognize  the  affirmation  their  denial  contains. 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  23 

It  is  conceded  that  every  affirmation  holds  a  denial  in 
its  bosom.  Whoever  says  "  Yes,"  at  the  same  time  says 
"No."  To  announce  a  belief  is  to  announce,  though 
silently,  an  unbelief  in  something  the  belief  excludes.  To 
make  a  declaration  of  faith  is  to  repudiate  some  oppo- 
sing declaration  which  somebody  else  has  put  forth.  The 
believer  in  Moses  and  the  prophets  tacitly  rejects  the  tra- 
ditions of  Egypt ;  the  believer  in  the  Christ  by  that  act 
renounces  the  anti-Christ ;  to  affirm  God  is  to  discard 
atheism  ;  to  affirm  the  soul  is  to  put  materialism  away  ; 
to  affirm  immortality  is  to  disclaim  the  doctrine  of  anni- 
hilation. This  being  conceded,  why  should  it  not  also 
be  conceded  that  every  denial  holds  in  its  bosom  an  af- 
firmation ?  Does  not  every  one  who  says  "  No,"  at  the 
same  time  say  "  Yes  ?  "  To  declare  against  a  belief, 
may  it  not  be  to  announce,  though  silently,  a  belief 
which  the  discarded  article  could  not  hold  ?  To  repu- 
diate a  well-known  declaration  of  faith,  may  it  not  be  to 
prepare  the  way  for,  may  it  not  be  to  shadow  forth,  an- 
other declaration  larger  and  clearer  ?  To  put  aside 
Moses  and  the  prophets  may  imply  a  putting  forward  of 
the  Christ.  To  deny  the  Christ  may  be  an  affirmation 
of  Jesus.  To  place  in  the  background  the  historical 
Jesus  may  be  to  bring  the  spiritual  Jesus  into  the  fore- 
ground. He  who  says  "  No  "  to  the  Trinity  says  "  Yes  '' 
to  the  Unity.  He  who  disavows  hell  avows  heaven.  He 
pulls  down  as  a  preparation  for  building,  and,  before  he 
begins  to  pull  down,  the  plans  of  the  new  building  lie 
already  finished  on  his  table.  Every  earnest  teacher  has 
his  positive  aim,  and  his  positive  aim  is  his  real  aim. 
He  denies  in  the  interest  of  truth.  He  destroys  in  the 
interest  of  conservation.  He  believes  and  therefore 
speaks. 


24  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

I  should  not  urge  so  simple  a  thought  as  this  if  it  were 
not  of  very  vital  consequence.  Until  it  is  seen  that  denial 
implies  belief  as  truly  as  belief  implies  denial,  no  discus- 
sion in  regard  to  belief  and  denial  can  go  on.  And  in 
order  that  this  may  be  seen,  the  popular  modes  of  think- 
ing must  undergo  a  change.  At  present  the  largest 
creeds  seem  to  be  the  most  negative,  the  broadest  beliefs 
the  most  unbelieving,  the  deepest  affirmations  the  most 
abrupt  denials.  Not  he  that  believes  least  is  the  infidel, 
but  he  that  believes  most.  The  most  spiritual  view  of 
Christianity  is  regarded  as  a  rejection  of  Christianity.  To 
believe  in  too  much  God  is  held  to  be  equivalent  to  believ- 
ing in  none.  The  atheist,  according  to  the  vulgar  preju- 
dice, is  the  man  who  proclaims  a  living  God !  A  Conser- 
vative said  lately  to  a  Radical :  "  You  believe  so  much 
that  you  believe  nothing." 

We  need  not  go  far  to  seek  the  explanation  of  this  sin- 
gular paradox.  For  a  couple  of  thousand  years  Christendom 
has  been  in  the  habit  of  associating  belief  with  a  certain 
historical  tradition.  He  only  was  recognized  as  a  builder 
who  piled  his  material  on  the  foundations  laid  by  the 
Church,  Jesus  Christ  being  the  chief  corner-stone.  To 
reject  this  was  to  reject  everything.  To  believe  anything 
else  than  this,  anything  aside  from  this,  anything  other, 
anything  more;  to  believe,  however  comprehensively, 
earnestly,  deeply,  vitally,  was  to  believe  nothing,  was,  in 
fact,  utter  unbelief.  So  long  as  this  prejudice  lasts — for  a 
prejudice 'I  must  call  it — no  justice  will  ever  be  rendered 
to  liberal  believers.  They  will  always  be  misapprehended. 
Their  affirmations  will  go  for  nothing.  Their  belief  will 
be  called  skepticism,  and  infidelity  will  be  the  kindest 
name  given  to  their  faith.  As  that  prejudice  declines  and 
passes  away,  as  it  is  rapidly  doing  under  the  influence  of 
intelligence,  the  doubters,  provers,  deniers  come  to  their 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  25 

rights,  and  the  beliefs  of  the  unbelievers  are  recognized  as 
being  what  they  are. 

Questions  of  belief  and  unbelief  continue  to  intensely 
interest  mankind.  They  are  more  fascinating  than  any 
questions  of  practice  which  seem  to  be  of  greater  moment. 
Where  these  latter  attract  a  few  scores  of  people,  the  for- 
mer attract  thousands.  The  chief  event  of  interest  in  our 
small  circle  during  the  last  week  was  the  conference  of 
Unitarian  and  other  Christian  churches,  and  the  most 
attractive  feature  in  the  conference  was  the  discussion 
between  the  conservative  and  the  radical  parties  on  the 
common  ground  of  Christian  faith.  The  matter  was  quite 
incidental.  It  was  almost  irrelevant.  The  churches  came 
together  not  to  debate  theological  issues,  but  to  arrange 
plans  for  practical  work.  There  were  many  things  to  be 
considered  :  the  occupation  of  new  fields,  the  organization 
of  societies,  the  building  of  churches,  the  endowment  of 
schools,  the  maintenance  of  colleges,  the  printing  of  books, 
the  support  of  missionaries,  the  reform  of  social  abuses, 
the  removal  of  social  evils,  the  rescue  of  the  imperiled,  the 
relief  of  the  perishing,  the  saving  of  the  lost ;  but  none  of 
these  great  practical  concerns  secured  the  attention,  enlisted 
the  feeling,  stirred  the  emotions,  as  did  this  apparently 
unprofitable  talking.  Crowds  flocked  to  it,  precious  hours 
were  devoted  to  it;  the  greater  number  of  the  delegates 
and  attendants  evidently  felt  that  it  involved  th«  most  mo- 
mentous issues  that  were  presented.  Let  us  hope  that  this 
feeling  deserves  a  better  name  than  curiosity  to  hear  spas- 
modic elocruence,  or  delight  in  witnessing  a  gladiatorial 
encounter,  or  the  idle  and  unprincipled  enjoyment  of  see- 
ing one  party  or  another  beaten  by  a  vote.  Deeper  than 
all  this,  though  this  was  most  frequently  avowed,  was,  I 
doubt  not,  the  persuasion  that  beneath  all  practice  lay 
belief ;  that  belief  was  the  basis  of  noble  action  of  what- 


20  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

ever  kind;  that  only  as  men  believed  would  they  speak  ; 
that  only  as  men  believed  would  they  work ;  that  the 
question  of  belief  being  unanswered,  other  questions  must 
wait;  that  the  question  of  belief  being  answered,  other 
questions  would  instantly  answer  themselves. 

At  all  events,  whatever  the  feeling  of  the  participants 
of  the  conference,  this  is  the  universal  persuasion,  that  life 
is  grounded  in  faith  ;  that  a  faithless  life  must  be  a  foolish 
one;  that  a  positive  faith  must  declare  itself  in  deeds. 
The  Romanist  tries  to  prove  that  Protestantism  demoral- 
izes, disintegrates,  and  subverts  society.  The  Protestant 
argues  that  Unitarianism  necessarily  results  in  anarchy. 
The  Unitarian  charges  on  the  liberal  doctrine  a  tendency 
to  unsettle  the  foundations  of  morality,  and  each  believer, 
in  turn,  while  thus  discrediting  the  moral  bearings  of  his 
neighbor's  opinions,  claims  that  the  best  results  will  flow 
from  his  own.  His  claim  may  be  unsupported,  but  he 
would  be  stultified  if  he  did  not  make  it. 

Of  the  proceedings  of  that  conference  it  is  not  my  pur- 
pose now  to  speak.  I  declined  being  officially  present, 
though  fully  entitled  to  be  on  every  ground,  because  I 
knew  that  the  two  parties  were  not  and  could  not  be  in 
sympathy,  and  because,  with  that  knowledge,  it  seemed 
better  for  the  party  that  was  in  the  minority  to  withdraw. 
I  would  not  thrust  myself  in  where  I  was  not  wanted,  and 
I  would  not  embarrass  those  who  had  a  work  of  their  own 
to  do  in  which  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  join.  There 
were  vital  principles  enough  to  serve  as  a  basis  for  a  cor- 
dial union  in  faith  and  work.  Intelligent,  educated, 
experienced  men  and  women,  who  know,  respect,  honor, 
and  confide  in  one  another  ;  who  agree  in  all  their  moral 
and  spiritual  ideas  ;  who  share  with  one  another  the  con- 
viction that  character,  not  opinion,  insures  felicity  ;  who 
are  of  one  mind  as  regards  the  elements  of  character  and. 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  27 

the  means  of  obtaining  jt;  who  have  the  same  standards 
of  private  and  public  virtue,  the  same  views  regarding  the 
constitution  and  well-being  of  society,  the  same  convic- 
tions touching  the  laws  and  conditions  of  a  perfect  social 
state ;  men  and  women  who  cherish  the  same  moral  and 
spiritual  conceptions  of  God,  the  same  moral  and  spiritual 
conceptions  of  Jesus,  the  same  confidence  in  the  ultimate 
destination  of  man,  the  same  trust  in  Providence,  the  same 
visions  of  eternity,  the  same  assurance  of  the  divine  Fath- 
erhood, the  same  yearning  after  a  brotherhood  of  men, 
certainly  ought  to  be  able  to  assemble  peacefully  and  work 
harmoniously,  leaving  theological  questions  in  entire  abey- 
ance. But  if  they  will  not  do  this,  if  they  will  insist  on 
making  speculative  opinions  the  ground  of  fellowship, 
then  should  either  party  do  its  best  to  make  known  what 
its  speculative  opinions  are,  not  shading  them  away  at  the 
edges,  but  sharply  defining  them  at  the  centre,  going  to 
the  roots  of  faith,  and  not  fanning  the  air  with  its  branch- 
es, or  tickling  the  sense  with  the  odor  of  its  blossoms. 
Honor  requires  frankness,  and  if  frankness  leads  to  part- 
ing, then  let  the  party  be  in  certainty  that  thus  to  part  is 
wiser  than  a  fair-spoken  but  ungenuine  meeting. 

As  one  of  the  Radicals  I  am  here  this  morning  to  state, 
not  by  any  means  all  the  details  (that  would  be  an  inter- 
minable task),  but  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  faith 
in  whose  interest  and  in  whose  inspiration  I  speak;  for, 
after  what  has  been  said,  our  claim  to  have  a  faith  must  be 
acknowledged.  That  this  faith  is,  to  a  certain  extent, 
undefinable  as  yet,  and  is,  to  a  still  greater  extent,  unde- 
fined, is  no  objection  to  its  reality  or  its  positiveness.  A 
great  deal  of  time  is  required  to  define  a  faith.  The  creed 
of  Christendom  has  been  undergoing  definitions  for  two 
thousand  years,  and  the  full  statement  is  not  made.  It  is 
but  a  short  time  since  the  Pope  added  a  new  article,  that 


28  THE  JUDICAL  BELIEF. 

of  the  Virgin's  Immaculate  Conception,  to  the  faith  of  the 

Roman  Church.  The  Protestant  theologians  in  Germany, 
England,  America,  are  busy  modifying,  restating,  recast- 
ing their  confessions,  giving  new  interpretations,  even  to 
the  essentials  of  belief.  Dissatisfied  with  these,  the  Uni- 
tarians undertake  to  say  once  more,  and  <»nce  for  all,  pre- 
cisely what  Christianity  is  and  precisely  what  it  is  not. 
There  is  no  unanimity  of  opinion  respecting  the  Christ, 
his  nature,  mission,  or  rule.  There  is  no  accord  of  mind 
in  regard  to  the  Godhead,  its  inner  consciousness,  its -rela- 
tion to  humanity,  its  attitude  toward  the  world. 

Is  it  fair,  then,  to  demand  of  a  new  faith  that  it  shall 
state  itself  fully  in  its  first  utterances  ?  May  not  we  have  a 
generation  when  Christendom  has  had  two  thousand  years  ? 
Must  our  imperfections  condemn  us,  when  its  incomplete- 
ness is  no  reproach  \  Must  our  vagueness  be  decisive  of 
our  fakity,  when  its  hesitancy  only  proves  its  truth  (  Be- 
cause we  cannot  in  half  an  hour  say  all  we  have  to  say, 
must  it  be  declared  that  we  have  nothing  to  say  whatever  ( 
The  new  faith  will  get  articulated  by  and  by  ;  wait  and 
you  will  see  what  it  is  ;  at  present  we  will  give  such  hints 
of  it  as  we  can. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  then,  we  affirm  the  existence  of  the 
religious  sentiment  in  man.  "We  declare  that  man  is  a 
religious  being,  worshiping  from  an  impulse  of  his  nature, 
believing  from  the  necessity  of  his  constitution,  yearning, 
hoping,  loving,  aspiring,  because  an  instinct  within  him 
prompts  him  to  do  so.  While  his  natural  affections  attach 
him  to  persons  ;  while  his  moral  sentiments  vitally  con- 
nect him  with  society ;  his  spiritual  sentiments  of  awe, 
wonder,  adoration,  gratitude,  impel  him  to  cast  his  thought 
an,d  feeling  abroad  toward  the  invisible,  which  is  also  to 
him  the  perfect.  This  motion  upward,  with  its  sense  of 
trust,  its  emotion  of  prayer,  this  impulse  towards  perfec- 


TEE  RADICAL  BELIEF.    '  29 

tion,  is  inborn  in  self-conscious  men.  It  was  not  a  creation 
of  the  priests,  though  the  priests  have  taken  advantage  of 
it  for  their  purposes.  It  was  not  a  device  of  rulers,  though 
rulers,  too,  have  made  use  of  it  in  order  to  enslave  man- 
hind.  It  is  not  the  offspring  of  ignorance,  for  it  outlives 
it.  It  is  the  prophecy  and  the  pledge  of  a  higher,  even  a 
spiritual  inward  and  eternal  life. 

Comte  tell  us  that  religion  is  a  feature  of  the  world's 
childhood.  If  it  is,  humanity  is  still  a  child,  and  will  be 
a  child  for  ages  to  come  not  to  be  counted.  As  mankind 
advances  in  intelligence,  knowledge,  culture,  they  do  not 
become  less  religious,  but  rather  more  so.  Goethe,  one  of 
the  capacious  minds  of  the  world,  was  a  magnificent  be- 
liever and  worshiper,  as  all  who  read  his  writings  know. 
It  was  he  that  spoke  of  the  material  universe  as  the  "  gar- 
ment "of  Deity.  Plato  was  no  rudimental  man,  jet  the 
religious  sentiment  in  him  kept  full  pace  with  his  philo- 
sophic march,  it  even  outstripped  his  swift  intelligence. 
Bacon  and  Newton  were  no  babes  ;  but  they  burst  into  the 
Infinite  only  to  kneel.  Milton  and  Dante  had  outgrown 
the  swaddling-clothes  of  the  race ;  yet  in  what  temples 
they  adored!  before  what  ideal  forms  they  bent  their 
heads !  Kant  and  Fichtc,  and  Hegel  and  Schleiermacher 
and  Herder,  surely  had  outlived  the  crudest  forms  of  in- 
telligence-; but  in  what  hopes  and  on  what  aspirations  they 
lived !  The  age  of  science  is  still  the  age  of  faith.  As  I 
open  the  pages  of  the  great  explorers  and  discoverers,  even 
in  the  world  of  matter,  I  find  that  in  proportion  to  their 
earnestness  is  their  reverence,  their  trust,  their  anticipation. 
They  do  not  pray,  perhaps,  but  they  revere ;  they  do  not 
write  confessions,  but  they  avow  principles  ;  they  call  God 
the  unknown  and  unknowable,  but  they  have  the  tender- 
est  veneration  for  his  immanent  being  ;  they  bring  no  gifts 
to  his  altar,  lint  they  duvote  themselves  to  unfolding  his 


30  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

laws.  The  last  thing  that  Comte  himself  did,  was  to  re- 
construct religion  at  the  bidding  of  his  heart. 

The  churchman  treats  the  religious  sentiment  as  if  it 
was  a  tiny  glimmering  spark  in  the  bosom,  which  he  must 
tend  and  feed  lest  it  become  extinct,  or  else  a  wild  flaring 
flame,  which  he  must  confine  within  his  enclosure  that  it 
may  steadily  burn.  He  says  to  men  :  "  But  for  me  you 
would  become  animals — but  for  me  your  souls  would  die. 
Desert  my  altars,  leave  my  communion,  neglect  my  pray- 
ers, abandon  my  sacraments,  withdraw  from  the  protection 
of  my  arms,  and  your  spirits  will  droop  and  languish." 
We  say  to  the  churchman  :  "  Nay,  quite  otherwise  ;  it  is 
to  this  religious  sentiment  you  patronize  that  you  owe 
your  own  existence;  you  are  not  its  master,  but  its  servant 
and  creature:  it  articulates  your  creed,  voices  your  choirs, 
hallows  your  altars,  springs  the  arches  of  your  cathedrals, 
breathes  the  power  into  your  apostles,  inspires  your  proph- 
ets, sanctifies  your  saints ;  your  establishments  rise  and 
fall  with  its  tides  of  feeling.  When  this  creative  senti- 
ment is  low,  your  mechanism  creaks  and  groans;  when  it 
is  high,  you  have  much  ado  to  prevent  it  carrying  you  and 
your  apparatus  away." 

The  religions  of  the  earth,  past  and  present,  are  not,  in 
our  judgment,  su pern aturally  and  miraculously  instituted 
for  the  training  and  education  of  the  religious  sentiment, 
but  are  efforts  of  the  religious  sentiment  itself  to  find 
God,  to  express  its  thoughts  of  Him,  and  to  pour  out  to 
Him  its  desires.  They  attest  its  power,  not  its  weakness. 
There  could  be  no  Buddhism  or  Brahmanism,  no  Parsee- 
iam  or  Zoroastrism,  no  Mosaism  or  Christianism,  or  Mo- 
hammedanism, were  there  not  a  spiritual  nature  to  create 
them.  The  saints  and  saviours  vouch  for  the  reality  of 
the  soul.  Had  man  not  been  a  religious  being  he  would 
never  have  prayed ;  had  the  religious  part  of  him  been 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  31 

feeble,  his  prayers  would  not  have  fashioned  the  mountains 
into  temples,  constructed  oratorios,  built  organs,  or  lifted 
holy  men  above  all  the  glooms  and  glories  of  the  earth. 

Among  rude  people,  in  rude  times,  the  religious  senti- 
ment finds  very  uncouth  and  ugly  expression.  Its  rites  are 
hideous,  and  even,  it  seems  to  us,  degrading.  It  lurks  in 
frightful  caverns;  it  hallows  ill-omened  birds  and  reptiles  ; 
it  feeds  horrid  idols  with  children's  blood.  It  appears  as 
that  dreadful  thing  called  Superstition.  But  all  things 
great  and  beautiful  begin  in  ugliness.  Compare  the  ear- 
liest Christian  art  with  the  masterpieces  of  Raphael ;  con- 
trast the  science  of  the  middle  ages  with  that  of  our  own 
day.  From  what  rough  beginnings  philosophy  and  litera- 
ture have  grown  to  be  the  glorious  creations  they  are. 
Cultivated  people  have  cultivated  religions.  As  humanity 
matures  its  faith  matures.  It  thinks  more  worthily,  trusts 
more  sweetly,  believes  more  rationally,-  worships  more 
purely.  Its  idols  disappear,  its  temples  expand,  its  forms 
become  light,  variable,  ethereal,  its  beliefs  spiritual,  its 
charities  wide,  its  hospitality  generous.  The  idea  takes 
the  place  of  the  dogma,  the  principle  is  substituted  for 
the  ordinance,  life  is  set  before  opinion.  As  the  science, 
literature,  art,  philosophy  of  a  people  are,  such  will  be  the 
religion  ;  crude  and  ugly  when  they  are — noble  and  beauti- 
ful when  that  character  belongs  to  the  in.  As  noxious 
weeds  give  place  to  flowers  and  shrubs  and  fruit-bearing 
trees ;  as  poisonous  reptiles  disappear  before  higher  organ 
izations  of  form,  so  do  the  idolatries  and  superstitions,  the 
errors  and  terrors  of  a  brutal  age,  perish  when  intellectual 
light  comes  in.  The  religions  of  mankind  are  milestones 
that  indicate  the  progress  of  the  race. 

II.  The  religious  sentiment  throws  out  the  thought  of 
God.  The  Radical  believes  in  God  in  the  most  positive, 
cordial,  and  determined  manner.     Not  in  the  God  of  any 


32  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

particular  church,  or  confession  ;  not  in  the  God  of  tlic 
Romanist,  the  Protestant,  or  the  technical  "  Christian  "  ; 
not  in  any  special  or  individual  God  ;  not,  let  me  say,  in  a 
God,  but  simply  and  only  in  God.  He  lias  no  thought,  he 
cannot  think  of  a  God  who  is  in  time  and  space,  who  con- 
secrates temples  or  sanctifies  exceptional  hours,  who  lurks 
behind  altars,  nestles  in  creeds,  or  inspires  officials  ;  who 
created  the  world  in  six  days,  and  had  to  make  it  over 
again,  and'at  last  died  himself  that  it  might  not  finally 
perish ;  who  peeps  into  his  earth  through  holes  in  a  con- 
cealing curtain,  tears  up  his  own  roads  and  mines  his  own 
bridges  in  order  to  visit  his  own  children  in  the  city  he 
has  provided  for  them ;  throws  into  confusion  his  own 
press-work  and  breaks  up  his  own  forms  in  order  to  make 
himself  more  intelligible  than  lie  was  when  every  letter 
was  in  place ;  who  appeal's  to  an  individual  Moses,  Sam- 
uel, or  Isaiah,  haunts  the  dreams  of  devout  men,  and  rises 
upon  the  vision  of  pious  women ;  a  God  who  listens  to 
private  prayers  and  takes  an  interest  in  private  fortunes, 
and  selects  tribes  or  nations  for  special  favors,  and  vouch- 
safes his  witness  to  this  or  the-other generation,  and  prints 
books  for  his  favorite  tribe  of  men.  The  God  of  Abra- 
ham, and  Isaac,  and  Jacob  the  Radical  knows  not ;  he 
knows  only  God. 

Of  this  Being  he  does  not  attempt,  he  does  not  dare  to 
attempt  a  definition;  rather,  he  tries  to  break  through  all 
definition,  that  lie  may  be  absolutely  without  bound  or 
limitation,  pure  spirit,  pure  intelligence,  the  fullest  ideal 
of  possibility,  the  fairest  dream  of  the  soul. 

The  more  definitions  the  better,  if  there  must  be  defi- 
nition ;it  all  ;  welcome  all  there  are  or  can  be,  rather  than 
rest  in  any  one.  Let  the  Trinitarian  throw  light,  if  he 
can,  on  the  mystery  of  the  divine  consciousness  ;  let  the 
Unitarian  illustrate  the  harmony  of  the  divine  order;  let 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  33 

tlie  Scientist  show  God  as  permanent  in  the  world  of  mat- 
ter ;  let  the  Transcendentalist  show  him  as  indwelling  in 
the  world  of  spirit.  Come,  Spinoza,  and  tell  us  of  the  God 
who  is  the  substance  of  things  ;  come,  Hegel,  and  tell  us 
of  the  God  who  unfolds  himself  in  history,  and  in  human- 
ity becomes  conscious ;  come,  artist,  come,  poet,  and  tell 
us  of  God  as  the  Soul  of  the  world;  come,  Spencer,  and 
tell  us  of  the  Unknown  and  Unknowable  ;  came,  Vache- 
rot,  and  tell  ns  of  God  the  Ideal,  the  vision  of  the  enlight- 
ened intelligence.  We  want  you  all ;  for  all  together  you 
will  not  sufficiently  declare  what  the  Infinite  is ;  all  to- 
gether you  will  not  succeed  in  flinging  too  many  lights 
upon  the  bosom  of  the  great  Deep.  We  need  the  multi- 
tude of  your  thoughts  to  save  us  from  the  tyranny  of  a 
single  creed. 

Of  the  moral  attributes  of  God,  the  Radical  hesitates  also 
to  speak.  Indeed,  he  dislikes  the  word  "  attributes,"  as 
implying  faculties  distinct  from  being.  He  does  not  say 
that  God  is  loving,  but  that  he  is  Love.  It  is  not  enough 
to  say  that  He  is  wise,  for  He  is  wisdom  ;  or  that  He  is  just, 
for  lie  is  justice  ;  or  that  He  is  good,  for  He  is  goodness ; 
or  that  He  is  merciful,  for  He  is  mercy.  To  this  believer's 
mind,  it  is  inconceivable  that  God  should  show  favoritism 
or  partiality  ;  that  He  should  hate,  loathe,  forget,  or  for- 
sake a  living  creature  ;  that  He  should  hold  any  outcast 
for  opinion  ;  that  He  should  hold  any  outcast  for  any  cause 
whatsoever ;  that  He  should  dig  a  hell  big  enough  to  hold 
an  insect,  or  erect  a  barrier  that  would  shut  out  a  bird. 

The  Radical's  God  is  simply  a  dream  of  all  conceivable 
perfection,  the  perfect  thought,  will,  care,  providence,  in 
whom  none  die,  but  in  whom  all  who  live  at  all,  live  and 
move  and  have  their  being. 

I  wish  I  could  use  stronger  words  than  these  to  say 
what  I  mean,  I  wish  there  were  any  other  form  of  speech 

2*- 


34  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

to  convince  you  how  earnestly  I  mean  it.  God  is  ;  not 
has  been,  or  will  be ;  and  He  is  infinitely  more  than  the 
best  believe  or  the  happiest  hope. 

III.  Next  we  say  that  God  reveals  himself.  The  Radical 
believes  in  Revelation.  Not  in  incidental  or  particular 
revelations  ;  not  in  peculiar  individual  revelation  ;  but  in 
Revelation.  It  is  a  necessity  of  the  Divine  Being  that 
He  should  reveal  himself.  He  is  light,  and  light  must 
shine  because  it  is  light.  He  is  love,  and  it  is  the  nature 
of  love  to  flow  out.  God  cannot  hide,  disappear,  veil,  or 
withdraw  himself.  He  spoke  creation  into  existence,  and 
creation  is  his  articulated  word.  Nature  is  not  a  cm-tain 
dropped  before  his  face,  but  the  visible  glory  of  his  face. 
The  natural  universe  is  not  a  screen  behind  which  He  hides, 
but  the  ether  whose  waves  render  Him  visible.  Our  own 
closed  eyelids,  and  they  alone,  conceal  God. 

Revelation  is  the  opening  of  our  eyes.  The  natural  eye 
— trained,  tutored,  and  taught — looks  directly  into  God's 
countenance,  and  sees  as  much  of  Him  as  sense  can  see, 
in  the  transcendent  loveliness  of  earth,  sea,  sky  ;  revelation 
of  this  breaking  in  successively  with  increase  of  perception 
a^d  closeness  of  study.  The  intellectual  eye  opens  and 
discerns  wonders  before  unsuspected,  wonders  of  law? 
system,  order,  harmony,  in  whose  presence  thought  stands 
enchanted.  The  moral  eye  opens,  and  new  realms  of  deity 
appear  in  the  awful  forms  of  truth,  obedience,  duty,  by 
which  the  most  ancient  heavens  are  fresh  and  strong.  The 
spiritual  eye  opens  last,  and  lo !  the  Godhead  widens  on 
man's  view ;  regions  of  benignity  lie  all  about  us  ;  flowers 
of  tenderness  bloom  in  the  bleak  spaces  of  the  universe  ; 
tendrils  of  pity  and  graciousness  twine  around  the  iron 
clamps  and  rods  of  law ;  there  is  a  loving  radiance  in  the 
sunbeam  ;  there  are  soft  tears  in  the  rain  ;  a  sweet  purpose 
is  seen  gliding  through  the  domains  of  nature  and  life ; 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  35 

footprints  of  a  boundless  good  will  are  detected  in  all  the 
first  and  latest  formations,  and  God  is  recognized  as 
Father  and  Mother,  as  Saviour  and  never-forgetting 
Friend. 

It  will  be  seen  at  once  why  the  highest  revelations  are 
made,  to  the  very  few.  There  are  very  few  who  have  the 
spiritual  eye  open  and  clear.  Not  many  enjoy  the  privi- 
lege of  moral  vision,  for  they  are  not  cultivated  in  it. 
Not  many  discern  much  with  the  eye  of  intelligence;  nay, 
the  multitude  perceive  nothing  distinctly  with  the  eye  of 
sense. 

It  is  as  in  a  picture  gallery.  A  score  or  so  unintelligently 
admire  the  pictures  ;  a  dozen  or  two  appreciate  them  ;  two 
or  three  gaze  at  them  with  delight,  being  fully  in  harmony 
with  the  artist's  soul ;  the  multitude  chat  and  gossip,  or  sink 
down  wearily  in  chairs,  yawning  and  wishing  to  go  home 
and  get  to  bed.  Yet  the  souls  of  Titian  and  Raphael 
glow  in  the  canvas  .and  offer  their  wealth  to  all  alike.  It  is 
no  figure  of  speech  that  the  pure  in  heart  see  God.  It  is  no 
bigotry  to  say  that  none  others  can.  The  fiction  of  shift- 
ing screens,  openings  into  heaven,  rents  in  nature's  cur- 
tain, audible  voices  in  desert  or  on  mountain-tops,  hints 
and  communications  given  to  eavesdroppers,  is  too  childish 
for  mention  ;  such  fancies  belong  to  the  second  childhood, 
of  which  we  all  have  the  same  opinion.  The  pure  in 
heart  see  God  face  to  face.  There  is  no  keyhole  or  crack 
in  the  wall,  or  small  preternatural  aperture  through  which 
any  others  can  get  a  glimpse  of  Him.  The  pure  in  heart, 
wherever  they  are,  and  whoever,  whether  Pagan,  Chris- 
tian, Turk,  or  Jew,  whether  of  the  olden  time  or  of 
to-day,  whether  men  of  Jerusalem  or  men  of  New  York, 
whether  priests  or  philosophers,  prophets  or  cobblers, 
ministers  or  menials,  men,  matrons,  or  maids,  the  pure  in 
heart,  and  none  others,  see  God. 


36  T1IE  JUDICAL  BELIEF. 

IV.  The  Radical  believes  in  Christianity  as  he  under- 
stands it;  not  as  the  only  religion,  by  any  means,  not  as) 
the  absolute  or  final  religion,  not  as  the  best  religion  for 
all  men,  not  as  the  finest  expression  of  the  religious  senti- 
ment, but  as  the  most  worthy  form  of  it  yet  manifest. 
Christianity,  as  vulgarly  interpreted,  the  Christianity  of 
the  Greek  church,  of  the  Roman  church,  of  the  English 
church,  of  the  Lutheran  and  Calvinist  churches,  of  the 
Arminian  and  Socinian  churches,  he  rejects  utterly  asm 
compatible  neither  with  reason,  philosophy,  science,  nor 
even  with  the  earliest  prophecies  of  their  own  faith. 
Their  traditions,  dogmas,  ordinances,  forms  of  worship, 
theories  of  human  nature,  human  society,  and  human  life, 
creeds,  definitions,  confessions,  practices,  sentiments,  be- 
liefs, hopes,  purposes,  anticipations,  are,  one  and  all,  and 
for  the  same  reasons,  unacceptable,  being  mainly  grotesque 
and  unintelligible  representations,  which  distort  or  corrupt 
the  ideas  they  may  embody. 

To  trie  Radical  Christianity  is  dear  as  implying  purity 
of  moral  standard,  sweetness  of  spiritual  graces,  tender- 
ness and  strength  of  personal  and  social  aspiration,  hope- 
fulness in  regard  to  human  destiny,  affection ateness  as  a 
faith  of  the  heart.  He  loves  it  for  its  feeling  towards  God 
and  the  world,  not  for  its  instruction  respecting  God  and 
the  world.  Greatest  of  the  world's  faiths,  religion  of  the 
most  advanced  races  and  of  the  most  modern  men,  the 
modern  mind  must  spiritualize  and  refine  Christianity 
very  much  before  it  can  accept  it,  and  even  then,  for 
many  important  things — for  knowledge,  for  practical  prin- 
ciples,  fur  working  beliefs — must  go  outside  of  it  wholly. 
•  The  Christianity  of  the  Radical  is  so  attenuated  as  not 
to  be  recognized  by  popular  Christendom,  but  it  is  not  so 
attenuated  as  to  lie  to  him  merely  a  shadow.  It  is  still  a 
substance,  a  real  thing  to  his  soul.     Rut  it  is  a  tiling  which 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  37 

lie  naturally  appropriates,  not  a  thing  by  which  he  allows 
himself  to  be  appropriated. 

Y.  The  Radical  believes  in  Jesus.  Not  in  "  the  Christ," 
but  in  Jesus,  as  the  highest  expression  of  the  religious 
sentiment  in  human  form  ;  yes,  on  the  whole,  the  highest 
manifestation  of  God.  The  human  form  offers  the  grand- 
est opportunity  for  the  divine  manifestation.  There  is  no 
symbol  so  perfect  as  man,  the  last 'development  of  creative 
power,  the  most  complete  exposition  of  creative  wisdom 
and  love.  We  see  God  imperfectly  till  we  see  Him  in  the 
human  form  ;  and  in  no  human  form  do  we  see  so  much 
of  Him  as  we  do  in  the  form  of  Jesus,  as  that  appears 
spiritualized  to  our  thoughts. 

Jt  is  not  the  Jesus  of  the  creeds  that  the  Radical  believes 
in.  It  is  not  the  Jesus  of  the  Church.  It  is  not  the  Jesus 
of  the  New  Testament,  for  the  New  Testament  puts  words 
into  his  mouth  which  no  sweet  soul  can  utter,  and  thoughts 
into  his  mind  which  no  enlightened  reason  can  entertain. 
We  know  how  the  record  of  his  life  was  made,  we  know 
what  foreign  elements  came  in,  we  know  how  the  partisans 
of  his  own  and  after  times  tried  to  represent  him  as  favor- 
ing their  views  and  originating  their  schemes.  We  there- 
fore search  and  sift,  endeavoring  to  extricate  the  image 
from  the  ooze  and  rubbish  that  have  accumulated  upon  it, 
and  retouch  its  spiritual  lineaments,  soiled  and  all  but 
effaced.  That  a  divine  soul  was  here  is  evident;  how 
divine,  his  contemporaries  did  not  see.  But  the  spiritual 
sense  of  mankind  attests  him  as  being  one  of  God's 
brightest  manifestations. 

Y\re  do  not  bow  the  knee  to  Jesus  or  sit  submissively  at 
his  feet;  we  do  not  pray  to  him;  lie  is  not  our  lord  and 
sovereign  master.  We  do  not  call  him  Saviour,  Redeemer, 
sole  Mediator,  and  Judge.  We  do  not  make  him  the  only 
foundation  or  corner-stone  of  our  faith.     He  is  the  child 


.. 


38  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

of  human  nature,  not  its  king.  The  heart  does  not  subject 
itself  to  him;  it  accepts  him,  authenticates  him,  places  him 
on  his  seat  of  honor,  crowns  him  with  his  fame.  What 
he  is  reported  to  have  said  inconsistent  with  its  best  feel- 
ing it  refuses  to  believe  that  he  did  say ;  the  ideas  that  are 
ascribed  to  him  at  variance  with  its  conviction  it  declines 
to  credit  him  with.  It  sees  in  him  the  expression  of  its 
highest  feeling,  and  is  encouraged,  cheered,  invigorated, 
consoled  by  the  persuasion  that  in  him  its  highest  feeling 
has  been  realized. 

But,  thinking  of  Jesus,  the  Radical's  thought  flies  in- 
stantly to  his  brothers.  That  he  ylorijies  them  is  the  great 
reflection  ;  that  in  him  their  nature  is  disclosed  ;  that  he  is 
the  flower  of  their  ugly  stem ;  that  in  their  slime  this 
fair  plant  had  its  root.  lie  is  the  natural  man.  The 
Radical,  therefore,  instead  of  fixing  his  gaze  on  Jesus  as  a 
superhuman  person,  turns  it  tenderly  on  the  people  about 
him,  as  being,  by  this  testimony,  human.  It  is  no  easy 
thing  to  do.  To  see  the  glory  of  Jesus  is  easy  enough. 
To  call  him  divine,  whe  cannot  do  as  much  ?  The  murder- 
er, the  ruffian,  the  traitor  will  do  that.  This  confession 
comes  lightly  from  the  coarsest  mouths.  But  how  many 
draw  the  inference?  How  many  say  of  this  drunkard, 
this  thief,  his  victim  of  lust  and  passion,  this  poor,  ill-born 
creature :  He  is  one  of  those  to  whom  Jesus  was  kin  ? 
The  glory  of  the  Son  of  Man  touches  this  dust,  irradiates 
and  should  animate  this  clay  !  Be  careful,  lest  your  scorn 
or  bitterness  prevent  its  being  seen  !  Be  watchful,  in 
order  that  the  sunlight  of  your  hope  and  the  dew  of  youi 
pity  may  fall  on  the  places  that  need  it  most. 

What  men  are  we  know,  and  the  knowledge  is  bitter  in- 
deed, agonizing,  at  times  almost  maddening.  What  they 
may  become,  what  capacities  lie  in  them,  what  possibili- 
ties are  theirs,  we  see  in  this  fair  shadowv  form  of  Jesus, 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  39 

and  we  have  faith  to  believe  that  in  this  form  all  may  be 
glorified.  In  this  name  we  stand  over  the  tombs  of  those 
who  are  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  and  cry:  Come 
forth  ! 

YI.  The  Radical  believes  in  Immortality.  This  is 
another  of  the  grand  declarations  of  the  religious  nature 
of  man,  and,  as  such,  he  listens  to  the  assertions  of  it  that 
come  from  all  tribes  and  centuries ;  the  heart's  anticipa- 
tions, the  soul's  prophecies,  the  reason's  intuitive  demon- 
stration— not  because  Jesus  taught  it,  for  Jesus  himself 
received  it  from  the  conviction  of  humanity — not  because 
Jesus  demonstrated  it  by  rising  from  the  dead,  for  had  not 
men  believed  in  immortality  they  would  never  have 
believed  that  he  rose— not  because  prophets  and  saints 
have  affirmed  it,  for  prophets  and  saints  are  but  voices 
from  the  believing  heart  of  the  world — not  because  of 
numerous  signs  and  wonders,  apparitions,  visions,  commu- 
nications, for  these,  too,  imply  a  faith  that  such  things 
may  be,  and  give  the  persuasion  that  they  are  what  they 
seem  to  be — not  for  any  or  all  of  these  superficial  reasons, 
but  for  a  reason  deeper  than  any  or  all — namely,  that  the 
religious  nature  asseverates,  and  has  always  asseverated 
the  truth  ;  that  the  more  it  is  enlightened  the  more  posi- 
tively it  asseverates  it ;  that  the  greatest  souls  have  been 
most  confident  of  it ;  that  while  the  critical  and  practical 
have  denied,  the  saintly  and  illuminated  have  affirmed ; 
that  the  loftiest  intelligences,  like  Plato,  have  given  it 
clearest  annunciation  ;  that  grandest  souls,  like  Socrates, 
have  borne  most  confidently  on  it  their  weight ;  that  love- 
liest hearts,  like  Jesus,  have  lived  in  it  as  in  their  home. 

The  Radical  is  interested  in  immortality  as  a  high  re- 
ligious belief.  Modern  Spiritualists  claim  ocular  and  tan- 
gible demonstration  of  the  future  life  ;  they  are  to  be 
congratulated  on  their  conviction.     But  to  this  bare  fact 


40  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

much  remains  to  be  added  before  the  faith  can  take  rank 
among  the  spiritual  convictions  of  mankind.  This  alone 
does  not  satisfy  the  soul.  The  butcher  who,  pushing  up 
his  hat,  said :  "  Once  I  believed  that  men  and  women 
died  like  cattle,  and  there  was  an  end  of  it ;  but  now, 
damn  it,  I  think  no  more  of  dying  than  of  pulling  off  my 
clothes  and  going  to  bed,"  accepted  immortality  through 
his  lingers,  but  not  through  his  soul.  It  was  not  a  relig- 
ious belief  with  him  ;  it  meant  an  incident  in  his  biog- 
raphy, not  a  crowning  glory  and  achievement  of  his  heart. 
Not  from  the  spiritual  nature  comes  such  faith  as  his. 

The  Radical  believes  in  immortality  meekly,  humbly, 
with  a  gladness  that  is  tinged  with  holy  fear ;  as  a  boon 
he  does  not  deserve  ;  a  gift  he  dare  not  think  himself  jus- 
tified in  snatching ;  a  glory  to  be  prepared  and  striven 
for ;  a  vision  to  be  waited  on  with  reverent  looks. 

On  this  great  belief  the  Radical  does  not  venture  to 
dogmatize  with  narrow  interpretations.  He  desires 
rather  that  it  should  be  voiced  in  the  most  comprehensive 
manner,  by  the  most  variously  attuned  minds.  He  loves 
to  have  it  presented  in  all  possible  aspects,  that  it  may  re- 
spond to  all  states  of  feeling  ;  as  the  craving  for  continued 
personal  existence  after  death,  as  the  longing  for  social  in- 
tercourse and  kindred  reunion,  as  aspiration  after  unat- 
tained  goodness,  as  thirst  for  supersensual  wisdom,  as  the 
sigh  after  more  than  mortal  peace,  and,  yet  further,  as 
the  generous  desire  to  live  still  in  and  through  others, 
though  individuality  be  extinguished  ;  the  inspiring  and 
unselfish  passion  to  bequeath  something  to  humanity,  in 
the  way  of  experience,  knowledge,  or  power,  and  so  to 
continue  a  living  force  in  mankind.  The  belief  in  im- 
mortality takes  all  these  forms  according  to  the  minds 
that  entertain  it.  In  all  of  them  it  appears  as  a  protest 
against  the  power  of  death  to  destroy  that  which  is  the 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  41 

most  precious  part  of  our  personality.  The  nature  of  man 
refuses  to  believe  itself  wholly  perishable,  rises  in  rebellion 
against  the  dominion  of  the  grave,  and  claims  the  privi- 
lege of  singing  its  songs,  finishing  its  education,  realizing 
its  dream,  perpetuating  its  influence,  or  completing  its 
blessedness  in  other  worlds. 

VII.  The  Radical  believes  in  as  much  of  the  Bible 
as  answers  to  his  cultured  reason  and  his  matured  convic- 
tion, and  in  no  more.  He  takes  what  nourishes  him,  and 
leaves  the  rest.  He  reads  it  as  he  reads  other  books,  and 
judges  it.  Inspiration  is  in  intelligence,  not  in  print. 
Scriptural  utterances  are  weighty  as  the  heart  authenti- 
cates them.  "When  not  thus  authenticated  they  pass  for 
naught.  The  true  things  in  the  Bible  are  not  true  be- 
cause they  are  there,  they  are  there  because  they  are  true. 
The  good  things  in  the  Bible  were  good  before  they  were 
in  the  Bible,  else  they  would  not  be  good  there.  The  re- 
ligious nature  always  brings  the  Book  to  judgment.  The 
orthodox  abolitionist  wrung  from  the  Old  Testament  the 
last  drop  of  the  virus  of  slavery  before  he  trusted  his  con- 
science to  it.  The  Swedenborgian  turns  the  preposterous 
or  wicked  sto*ries  into  parables  in  order  to  make  the  Word 
seem  divine.  The  Unitarian  compels  the  Bible  to  utter 
his  opinions  before  he  vouches  for  its  inspiration.  The 
Universalist  empties  the  ugly  meaning  from  the  ugly  texts 
of  the  ISTew  Testament,  before  he  will  quote  them  in  proof 
of  his  belief. 

A  refined  age  rejects  the  coarseness  of  the  Bible.  A 
knowing  age  rejects  the  ignorance  of  it.  A  moral  age 
discards  its  immoralities.  A  spiritual  age  changes  its  raw 
statements  into  allegory,  or  turns  away  from  them  alto- 
gether. 

There  are  many  Bibles.  All  the  soul's  writings  are 
Scriptures,  wherever  and  by  whomsoever  penned.     They 


42  THE  RADICAL  BELIEF. 

are  intended  for  spiritual  eyes,  and  only  what  such  can 
read  in  them  is  true.  Humanity  continually  revises  its 
sacred  books,  comparing  them  from  age  to  age  with  the 
inscriptions  on  the  heart,  which  come  out  clear  under  the 
purifying  action  of  experience  and  the  illuminating  power 
of  culture.  Again  and  again  we  refer  to  these,  and  only 
what  these  will  ultimately  verify  will  stand. 

Such,  briefly  stated,  are  the  grand  articles  of  the  Radi- 
cal's creed ;  others  there  are,  of  vital  importance,  which  I 
need  not  mention,  for  the  plain  reason  that  they  are  com- 
mon to  all  good  men.  Faith  in  the  general  principles 
of  truth  and  goodness,  faith  in  the  moral  law,  faith  in 
recompense  and  retribution,  in  the  sacredness  of  duty,  the 
ministering  power  of  kindness,  the  graces  of  humility,  pa- 
tience, meekness,  the  nobleness  of  consecration,  the  joy 
of  sacrifice — these,  thank  heaven,  all  worthy  men  and 
women  share  alike.  All  good  men  believe  in  the  good 
life  as  the  acceptable  offering,  however  they  may  differ  as 
to  the  means  of  attaining  it.  Whatever  they  may  think 
of  the  communion  of  sinners,  they  all  believe  in  the  com- 
munion of  saints.  All  good  men  believe  that  existence  is 
not  worth  much  unless  it  be  devoted  to  some  generous 
aims.  All  are  agreed  in  regard  to  the  qualities  that  make 
ends  generous ;  all  are  persuaded  that  snch  ends  will  never 
be  accomplished  except  by  those  who  keep  themselves 
rooted  and  grounded  in  truth  and  love. 

The  Radical  believes  that  the  world  is  to  be  humanized  ; 
that  the  men  and  women  in  it  are  to  be  made  nobler  and 
better ;  that  society  is  to  be  regenerated  by  the  action  of 
the  natural  laws  of  reason  and  goodness.  lie  believes  in 
the  highest  education  of  all  men  and  women,  in  the  largest 
possession  of  rights,  the  freest  sharing  of  opportunities, 
the  most  cordial  participation  in  privileges,  the  richest  un- 
folding of  powers;  in  science,  philosophy,  literature,  art, 


THE  RADICAL  BELIEF.  43 

industry,  commerce,  the  most  liberal  communication  be- 
tween nation  with  nation  and  man  with  man.  He  be- 
lieves in  developing  each  and  binding  all  together  in 
human  bonds ;  he  believes  in  the  good  time  coming — the 
kingdom  of  God — the  heavenly  Republic — in  which  edu- 
cated reason  and  experienced  conscience  shall  be  the 
ground  of  order,  peace,  and  felicity. 


Ill 

THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT. 

"  Rooted  and  grounded  in  Love!" — Ephes.  iii.  17. 

EVERYTHING  that  lives  lias  a  root.  The  plant  draws 
sustenance  from  two  worlds,  a  world  of  darkness  and  a 
world  of  light,  and  as  much  from  one'aa  the  other.  Even 
the  air  plants,  as  we  call  them,  that  seem  to  live  entirely  on 
the  light  and  the  atmosphere,  still  derive  their  nourish- 
ment in  part  from  tangible  substances.  They  pine  with- 
out moisture.  Would  you  make  them  grow  in  your  hot- 
house, you  must  provide  something,  though  it  be  nothing 
more  than  a  piece  of  decaying  wood,  a  lump  of  charcoal, 
or  a  few  mossy  stones,  to  which  they  can  attach  their  ten- 
uous roots.  So  foolish  a  thing  as  the  rose  of  Jericho, 
which  flourishes  all  over  the  East— in  the  Barbary  States, 
in  Palestine,  and  Upper  Egypt — lingering  by  the  side  of 
streams,  enjoying  moist  places — a  plant  that  in  the  dry 
season  pulls  its  tiny  root  out  of  the  ground,  curls  it  tightly 
round  its  body,  and  rolls  off  before  the  wind  until  it  finds 
a  congenial  restiug-f)lace,  nevertheless  has  its  suckers 
which  it  unwinds  and  drops  down  when  its  pleasure 
serves ;  and  it  always  chooses  a  succulent  spot  near  a 
stream  of  water,  in  a  bed  of  mould,  or  on  a  heap  of  muck. 
The  higher  the  growth  upwards,  the  deeper  the  root  down- 
wards. Plants  that  live  near  the  ground  need  but  a  feeble 
hold  on  the  soil.  An  inch  or  two  of  earth  suffices.  They 
need  not  spread  at  all ;  they  need  only  dip.     The  stem  of 


THE  BA  DICAL'S  BOOT.  45 

the  crocus  and  of  the  violet  is  very  short ;  a  child  can  pull 
them  up  with  its  fingers;  they  need  no  depth  of  soil.  But 
the  great  tree  that  overshadows  half  an  acre,  that  takes  in 
the  sunshine  of  the  whole  heavens,  and  is  refreshed  by  the 
winds  that  blow  from  all  the  quarters  of  the  globe,  reaches 
down  furlong  upon  furlong ;  its  roots  are  a  subterranean 
forest  stretching  out  great  branches  that  twine  and  grasp 
like  anacondas,  and  appropriate  the  vitality  that  ages  have 
deposited.  The  oak-tree,  that  is  to  last  perhaps  a  thousand 
years,  under  whose  shade  generations  of  children  are  to 
play,  draws  the  nurture  that  sustains  it  from  an  area  wider 
than  it  spreads  over  in  the  sky  ;  it  lays  hold  on  the  very 
heart  of  the  planet,  coils  about  huge  rocks  beneath  the 
earth,  ties  itself  in  with  the  knotted  roots  of  other  trees, 
C-oes  plunging  and  burrowing  down  towards  the  centre  of 
the  globe  in  search  of  things  that  died  centuries  before, 
and  are  hastening  into  mould  ;  prowls  after  the  hidden 
springs  of  water,  finds  where  the  sweetest  fountains  are, 
and  will  even  plunge  beneath  them,  pushing  its  greedy  in- 
quiries beyond  their  ken,  levying  on  other  territory  that 
may  perchance  have  treasure  of  food  for  it.  All  the  force 
of  man  will  not  start  a  mountain  pine.  The  tempest  of 
the  winter  but  strips  oil  its  leaves  ;  the  earthquake  that 
tumbles  down  the  dwellings  of  a  city  does  not  loosen  a 
single  one  of  its  fibres  ;  it  is  an  organic  thing,  a  piece  of 
nature  ;  the  upper  world  of  light  and  glory  clothes  it  an- 
nually with  the  splendor  of  a  new  creation;  the  under 
world,  cloudy,  dark,  and  secret,  but  full  of  living  forces, 
pours  into  it  the  products  of  all  the  growth  of  the  planet 
for  a  thousand  generations. 

The  analogy  holds  in  regard  to  human  beings.  Every 
individual  man  and  woman  has  a  root ;  and  the  grander 
the  growth  of  human  qualities  the  deeper  is  the  root.  The 
persons  who  oiwlooks  his  generation  you  may  be  sure  uu- 


46  TEE  RADICALS  ROOT. 

der\ook$  his  generation  as  well.  He  whose  shadow  falls 
across  centuries  draws  his  sustenance  from  more  centuries 
that  have  gone  before  him,  and  have  left  no  trace  save  in 
the  wealthy  world  out  of  which  he  sprang.  According  to 
the  height  of  the  character  is  the  depth  of  the  source 
whence  it  draws  supplies.  Here  is  a  man  who  is  ironed  to 
circumstance :  in  the  upper,  superficial  stratum  of  things 
adjacent  to  him — what  we  call  the  conditions  of  his  life — 
the  external  apparatus  by  which  his  existence  is  kept  in 
order,  furnish  the  soil  he  is  grounded  in. '  He  depends 
upon  those.  His  fibres  strike  no  deeper  than  his  accidents. 
Is  he  rich — he  blossoms  and  bears  fruit.  Is  he  poor — he 
dries  up,  sin-inks  away,  perishes.  In  prosperity  he  shoots 
lip  tall,  spreads  his  branches  wide,  waves  his  leafage  in 
the  air ;  adversity  strikes  him,  the  foliage  is  all  stripped 
off,  the  branches  toss  idly  in  the  wind,  the  trunk  sways 
wildly  hither  and  thither,  the  roots  are  loosened  ;  if  a  se- 
verer gale  than  usual  strikes  him,  he  is  laid  prone  on  the 
ground.  Is  he  successful — success  feeds  him,  elates  him, 
makes  him  happy  ;  his  veins  are  full  of  sap  ;  his  eye  is 
bright;  he  hold  his  head  high;  his  hand  is  open.  Is  he 
unsuccessful — all  the  geniality  is  gone  ;  no  more  light  in 
his  eye,  no  more  buoyancy  in  his  step,  no  more  upright- 
ness in  his  form  ;  his  mind  has  lost  its  balance  ;  his  heart 
is  dead.  Here  is  a  man  who,  in  the  season  of  popularity, 
is  open-minded,  bright-hearted,  happy,  warm  in  his  affec- 
tions, generous  in  his  impulses;  he  seems  to  be  ennobled 
by  the  regards  of  his  fellow-men.  Is  he  unpopular — the 
withdrawal  of  the  sunlight  of  common  favor,  the  with- 
holding of  the  praise  of  ordinary  people,  take  from  him 
the  very  breath  by  which  he  lives,  and  he  blackens  and 
dies.  To  be  born  at  the  North  was  once  to  be  a  democrat ; 
to  be  born  at  the  South  was  to  be  an  apologist  for  the  pe- 
culiar institution.     In  England,  this  man  believes  in  men- 


THE  RADICAL'S  R001.  47 

archy.  In  Paris,  lie  praises  imperialism  or  republicanism, 
according  to  circumstances.  In  Protestant  countries  he  is 
a  Protestant ;  in  Papal  countries,  a  Papist.  In  Mecca,  lie 
puts  off  his  shoes  before  entering  the  sacred  precincts,  and 
kisses  the  black  stone.  His  faith  is  that  of  the  country 
he  sojourns  in  ;  he  worships  with  the  multitude,  whatever 
their  superstition  ;  he  is  as  he  happens  to  be ;  like  the 
chameleon,  he  takes  the  color  of  the  ground  he  lies  on, 
some  say,  of  the  food  he  eats  ;  lie  is  a  rose  of  Jericho,  al- 
ways hurrying  before  the  wind,  his  roots  in  his  trunk.  If 
he  has  roots,  nobody  knows  where  they  are  until,  occasion- 
ally, for  a  moment,  he  finds  it  convenient  to  pause  and  to 
pump  up  a  little  sap  into  his  body  from  the  place  where 
he  happens  to  find  himself. 

Here  is  a  man  with  a  deeper  root,  a  root  in  his  ancestry. 
He  is  a  leaf  on  a  family  tree.  He  refers  back  to  his  pre- 
cursors ;  is  proud  of  their  blood  in  his  veins — the  red 
blood,  the  blue  blood,  that  father,  mother,  or  some  more 
distant  ancestor,  furnishes.  This  man  is  mindful  of  the 
stock  he  springs  from,  the  pit  out  of  which  he  was  digged. 
He  carries  himself  with  a  proud  consciousness  of  superior 
worth,  if  the  stock  be  noble.  A  kind  of  nobility  charac- 
terizes his  look  and  manner.  If  it  be  ignoble,  the  charac- 
teristics none  the  less  appear  in  him,  and  none  the  less  is 
he  proud  of  them  ;  he  boasts  of  their  evil  prowess,  talks 
haughtily  of  their  wild  heroism,  exults  in  their  question- 
able achievements,  quotes  their  strong  sayings,  tries  to 
cany  himself  as  their  descendant  and  representative. 
There  is  a  good  side  to  this  pride  of  ancestry,  if  the  ances- 
try be  worthy,  but  there  is  a  bad  side  to  it  even  then.  The 
material  that  a  man  derives  from  his  ancestry,  however 
rich,  does  not  make  him  human  in  the  noble  sense ;  it 
shuts  him  in  with  a  few  qualities ;  it  makes  him  reserved, 
exclusive,  opinionated,  imparts  to  him  the  characteristics 


48  THE  RADICALS  HOOT. 

of  the  caste  he  belongs  to.  In  fact,  the  caste  spirit  itself  is 
due  to  this  narrow  veneration,  for  it  confines  men  to  cer- 
tain sharply-defined  types  which  clash  with  each  other, 
and  cause  incessant  friction  and  war.  On  the  whole,  root 
of  ancestry  is  a  bitter  one,  and  the  fruit  it  bears  is 
bitter. 

Let  us  suppose  a  man  to  strike  his  roots  lower  down  than 
this.  lie  is  not,  we  will  say,  the  creature  of  his  circum- 
stances— he  is  not  the  child  of  his  parentage.  lie  belongs 
to  his  nation ;  lie  is  an  American  or  German,  Frenchman 
or  Englishman.  His  suckers  spread  out  to  the  limits  of 
the  national  domain.  He  is  not  bounded  by  State  lines. 
He  does  not  ask  whether  his  neighbor  comes  from  the  East 
or  the  West,  the  Isortli  or  the  South;  he  is  countryman, 
and  that  is  enough;  he  is  blood  of  his  blood,  and  bone  of 
his  bone,  a  fellow,  an  equal,  and  a  brother,  sacred  in  his 
person  and  venerable  in  his  rights.  Such  a  man  will  be 
large,  expansive,  and  generous.  He  is  the  patriot;  full  of 
noble  sentiments  ;  a  man  of  comprehensive  sympathies  and 
wide  interests.  He  can  take  his  brother  American  by  the 
hand  wherever  he  meets  him,  be  he  rich  or  poor,  fortunate 
or  unfortunate,  attractive  or  forbidding.  The  fact  of 
belonging  to  a  common  country  covers  a  multitude  of  infir- 
mities. It  cannot  be  denied  that  a  certain  grandeur  of 
intelligence,  a  certain  faith  in  ideas,  a  certain  breadth  of 
allegiance  to  principles,  accompanies  this  patriotic  type. 
But  neither  can  it  be  denied  that  such  a  person  has  his  lim- 
its. He  believes  in  American  ideas,  but  in  no  others;  he 
praises  American  principles,  but  concedes  worth  to  none 
beside  ;  you  may  always  know  him  as  a  man  who  exults  in 
his  native  land  so  cordially  that  the  foreigner  is  a  barba- 
rian. For  has  he  the  same  feeling  to  the  Englishman? 
Does  he  equally  respect  the  German  ?  Has  he  a  profound 
respect  for  the  Frenchman  ?     Can  he  enter  sympathetically 


THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT.  49 

into  the  feelings  of  the  Italian  or  the  Irishman  ?  Not  so. 
He  is  possibly  a  bigot  in  his  prejudices,  unable  to  appreci- 
ate the  intellectual  or  moral  weight  of  a  fellow-man  who 
lives  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  or  the  Pacific  sea. 
In  England  he  has  no  eye  for  what  may  be  the  advantages 
of  a  constitutional  monarchy ;  in  Germany  he  cannot  wel- 
come what  may  be  said  for  the  constitution  of  the  empire; 
in  France  he  fails  to  understand  the  peculiar  temper  of  a 
people  that  is  constantly  overturning  its  own  system  of  gov- 
ernment. He  can  cherish  scorn  for  the  stranger,  having 
but  one  word  for  stranger  and  enemy.  Noble,  wide, 
grand  in  many  respects,  his  root,  nevertheless,  is  not  so 
firm  that  it  cannot  be  shaken  by  prejudice,  passion,  and 
malice.  Should  the  time  come  when  a  controversy  arises 
between  his  own  government  and  another,  the  right  is  sure 
with  him  to  be  on  one  side ;  his  motto  is,  "  Our  country, 
right  or  wrong,"  but  still,  our  country. 

But  now,  suppose  a  man  to  strike  down  his  roots  lower 
than  this — below  family,  ancestry,  class,  clan,  tribe,  coun- 
try— down  into  human  nature  itself ;  not  asking  whether 
one  be  English,  French,  German,  American,  Italian,  Irish, 
but  whether  he  be  human;  suppose  a  man  to  really  make 
no  distinction  between  Jew  and  Greek,  barbarian  or  Scy- 
thian, bond  or  free — to  consider  simply  this  one  question, 
whether  the  individual  has  the  attributes  of  a  human 
being.  Such  a  man  has  real  roots.  He  is  interested  in 
what  concerns  his  fellows.  He  strikes  down  into  a  prin- 
ciple. He  draws  sustenance  from  an  idea.  His  sympa- 
thies are  world  wide.  He  touches  every  person  at  the 
point  where  all  touch  each  other.  He  can  surrender  him- 
self to  a  cause.  The  question  with  him  is,  Is  it  just  ?  Is 
it  right  ?  This  is  the  noblest,  the  most  exhaustive  root  of 
all.  Deeper  than  this,  deeper  than  human  nature,  it  is  im- 
possible to  go.     When  we  see  a  man  striking  his  roots 

3 


50  THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT. 

down  into  this  principle  of  human  nature,  we  see  one  who 
strikes  down  into  the  core  of  things ;  we  see  one  who  is 
proof  against  the  severest  tribulations,  sorrows,  tempta- 
tions. 1n"o  wind  can  shatter  him  ;  no  tempest  can  unseat 
him  ;  he  stands  up  under  calamity,  and  even  comes  out 
stronger  from  the  shock  of  the  elemental  war. 

I  am  to  speak  this  morning  of  the  Radical's  Root. 

What  do  we  mean  by  a  Radical  ?  There  are  three  defi- 
nitions of  the  term.  According  to  the  popular  acceptation, 
the  Radical  is  one  who  pulls  up  things  by  the  roots,  a 
destroyer,  a  revolutionist.  This  is  the  definition  of  the 
enemy.  The  genuine  Radical  rejects  it  as  being  no  de- 
scription of  himself  whatever.  The  Radical  says  of 
himself,  "  I  come  not  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfill."  He  would 
pull  up  nothing  by  the  roots  that  had  roots  to  support  it. 
lie  would  let  even  weeds  grow  in  his  neighbors  field,  if 
the  neighbor  preferred  them  to  grain;  he  has  too  much 
respect  for  .things  that  grow,  to  disturb  them  without 
cause;  only  the  poisonous  plants  that  corrupt  the  atmos- 
phere and  impoverish  the  land,  would  he  eradicate. 

A  second  definition  marks  the  Radical  as  one  who  never 
can  rest  until  he  gets  at  the  root  of  things.  The  Radical  is 
represented  as  a  prying,  inquisitive,  critical,  restless  per- 
son, who  is  forever  burrowing  in  the  ground,  can  never  be 
satisfied,  can  never  leave  any  belief  or  institution  alone, 
can  never  take  a  doctrine  on  trust,  must  impatiently  pull 
up  his  corn  to  sec  how  it  grows;  a  man  without  intelli- 
gent motive,  or  earnestness  of  purpose,  or  serious  desire 
after  truth  ;  inheriting  a  precious  vineyard,  which  has  pro- 
duced luscious  grapes  for  a  hundred  years,  the  delicious 
fruit  whereof  he  has  tasted  in  health  and  sickness,  in  clus- 
ters and  in  vintage,  since  he  became  a  man,  he  must  nev- 
ertheless worry  and  explore  and  expose  the  healthy  suck- 
ers of  his  vines,  that  he  may  ascertain  in  what  precise  mix- 


THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT.  51 

ture  of  coil  they  arc  planted;  living  in  a  house  which  has 
sheltered  him  and  his  parents  before  him,  and  a  line  of 
ancestors  before  them — a  house  that  in  generations  has 
never  started,  does  not  show  a  crack  in  its  walls  or  a  leak 
in  its  roof — still  he  is  not  content  until  he  has  been  down 
in  the  cellar,  tested  with  the  hammer  every  stone  in  the 
substructure,  and  carried  on  geological  experiments 
beneath  the  foundation,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  upsetting 
the  building.  This,  too,  I  pronounce  a  caricature.  This, 
too,  is  the  definition  of  the  antagonist.  The  Radical  is  no 
such  person.  That  there  are  persons  who  do  this,  may  be 
true  enough,  but  they  are  not  necessarily  Radicals.  It  is 
not  the  peculiarity  of  the  Radical,  that  out  of  mere  curios- 
ity, in  a  spirit  of  restlessness,  from  an  idle  desire  to  know 
more  than  is  useful,  admissible,  or  wise,  he  would  unseat 
anything  that  has  a  valid  claim  to  permanence.  Whatever 
has  a  solid  basis  he  allows  to  stand. 

The  Radical  is  simply  one  who  desires  a  root,  who  be- 
lieves in  roots,  is  sure  that  nothing  is  strong  without  them, 
and  is  concerned  to  know  in  what  sort  of  soil  he  is  plant- 
ed. He  has  no  fancy  for  oaks  planted  in  flower-pots ; 
pine-trees  set  in  porcelain  vases  are  not  to  him  beautiful. 
Knowing  somewhat  the  uncertainty  of  the  seasons,  having 
had  prdof  of  the  variableness  of  climates,  he  has  no  wish 
to  be  put  down  in  a  small  area.,  fenced  about  on  all  sides, 
bricked  closely  in  so  that  no  draught  can  freshen  the  air 
and  enliven  the  soil.  He  has  discovered  that  in  his  daily 
life  he  must  face  the  tempest  and  brave  the  blast,  and  he 
would  make  sure  against  being  stripped  by  an  autumn 
wind,  or  sapped  by  a  trickling  stream  of  water,  or  over- 
turned by  a  sudden  convulsion  of  nature.  He  prefers  to 
be  able  to  stand,  and,  when  the  storm  has  passed,  still  to 
stand.  He  calls  himself,  therefore,  what  he  is,  a  Radical 
■ — a  root-man,  because  he  believes  in  a  root;  the  deeper 


52  THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT. 

the  root,  the  more  he  believes  in  it ;  and  his  sincere  de- 
sire, his  only  desire,  is  to  know  that  his  root  goes  down 
deep  enough  to  hold  fast  amid  the  severest  stress  of 
weather. 

The  Radical,  therefore,  cannot  be  a  sectarian.  .  The 
sectarian  stands  planted  in  a  sect,  but  a  sect  is  a  fragment 
— something  cut  off  from  the  domain  of  thought,  a  small 
ground-plot,  or  yard,  not  an  open  field.  The  sectarian  is 
a  class  or  clique  man  ;  as  the  word  signifies,  a  man  who  is 
clipped  and  trimmed  down.  He  is  a  tree  set  in  a  box,  not 
in  a  meadow.  That  he  has  a  certain  amount  of  verdure, 
that  he  bears  a  certain  quality  of  fruit,  that  he  has  ele- 
ments of  earnestness,  of  intensity,  may  be  cheerfully 
granted.  Every  human  being  has  vitality  of  some  sort; 
he  will  grow  after  a  fashion  wherever  you  plant  him*;  if 
you  plant  him  in  a  small  place,  he  will  make  the  most  of 
his  opportunity,  he  will  ripen  to  the  extent  of  his  limits. 
But  if  the  limits  are  cramped,  the  stature  will  be  stunted. 
The  sectarian  is  an  apple-tree,  planted  in  the  cleft  of  a 
rock.  Chance  has  put  it  there  ;  no  gardener  is  responsi- 
ble for  the  situation  ;  it  makes  the  best  of  its  handful  of 
earth  and  thimbleful  of  moisture;  struggles  as  well  as  it 
can  to  get  at  the  light  and  air;  rejoices,  after  a  sickly 
fashion,  in  the  sun  ;  holds  out  its  scanty  leaf  to  catch  the 
rain-fall,  but  after  all  can  get  no  more  sustenance  than  the 
conditions  allow.  The  kind  wind  blows  dust  into  the 
nook  where  the  poor  twisted  body  is  ;  resolutely  the  root 
is  let  down,  and  painfully  the  sustenance  there  is  drawn 
up,  though  it  be  but  a  mouthful.  But  you  will  see  only  a 
few  wrinkled  leaves.  On  the  outermost  twig,  perhaps, 
you  may  discover  a  single  apple,  which  never  ripens,  and, 
when  bitten,  proves  to  be  sour.  The  sectarian  has  a  cer- 
tain amount  offeree  of  his  own  ;  but  the  sound  he  makes 
as  he  ripples  along,  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  volume 


THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT.  53 

of  the  stream ;  it  is  tlie  rattle  of  a  thin  current  of  water 
flowing  over  loose  pebbles.  A  very  slender  rivlilet  will 
turn  a  pretty  large  mill-wheel  if  you  only  make  the  chan- 
nel narrow  enough.  Bat  one  can  have  no  more  life  than 
his  roots  supply ;  the  sectarian's  mind,  therefore,  is  nar- 
row, dry,  thin,  and  sandy.  There  is  no  great  impulse,  no 
eager  seeking  after  the  new  truth.  He  holds  up  his  little 
shred  of  doctrine,  and  it  is  not  apparent  to  him  that  any- 
body else  has  any  doctrine  at  all.  His  heart  cannot  be  genial 
or  diffusive  in  its  charity.  It  is  impossible  for  him  to  feel 
that  other  men  who  do  not  believe  as  he  does,  are  as  good 
as  he  is ;  that  they  can  be  sincerely  good  at  all.  There  is 
a  certain  amount  of  conscience,  or  of  conscientiousness, 
rather,  but  it  grinds  away  at  the  crank  of  the  denominational 
organization,  it  turns  the  creaking  wheel  of  denominational 
duty,  and  succeeds  in  bringing  out  a  certain  amount  of 
hard  grits  which  one  can,  perhaps,  make  into  a  dry  biscuit. 
He  cannot  worship  with  grandeur  of  devotion,  for  his 
deity  is  a  definition,  his  God  is  a  dogma.  He  can  onlv 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  divine  love  at  the  bottom  of  a  well 
as  the  sun  passes  over  the  mouth  of  it.  His  soul,  there- 
fore, is  apt  to  be  arid  and  barren  as  his  mind ;  his  love  of 
God  is  love  of  his  denomination,  and  the  love  of  his  de- 
nomination is  but  a  species  of  the  love  of  himself. 

The  Radical  cannot  be  a  sectarian.  Can  the  Radical  be 
a  churchman  %  What  is  a  church,  but  a  more  comprehen- 
sive and  better  organized  sect,  a  wider  denomination,  a 
more  diversified  group  of  believers  ?  There  is  something 
grand,  truly,  in  the  idea  of  a  church ;  in  every  existing 
church  there  is  much  that  is  noble,  majestic,  and  attractive. 
A  church  is  an  organization,  not  a  machine  ;  it  is  a  growth  ; 
it  lives  through  ages  of  time  ;  it  covers  a  large  area  of 
space ;  it  includes  people  of  many  conditions,  many  orders 
of  Intellect,  many  casts  of  disposition,  many  tongues,  many 


54  THE  RADICAL'S  BOOT. 

types  of  genius,  it  may  be,  many  different  races.  It  has 
developed  in  the  course  of  centuries.  There  are  worlds  of 
experiences  in  it.  Its  spiritual-  soil  is  strong  and  succu- 
lent, with  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  thoughts  and  desires, 
the  aspirations  and  utterances  of  generations.  Its  doctrines 
are  the  product  of  disciplined  minds  working  through 
many  phases  of  faith.  It  has  sacraments  and  ceremonies, 
solemn  rites,  glorious  music,  beautiful  symbols,  poetry, 
art,  architecture.  It  has  great  churches,  not  meeting-houses, 
that  seem  to  have  grown,  by  the  laws  of  nature,  out  of  the 
soil.  To  be  rooted  in  a  church  is  to  have  roots  struck  into 
historic  and  holy  ground ;  it  is  to  draw  moisture  from 
many  living  springs ;  it  is  to  appropriate  the  experience, 
perhaps,  of  a  nation.  The  churchman,  so  he  be  a  true 
churchman,  carries  with  himself  an  air  of  calmness  and 
repose,  of  dignity  and  of  grace.  He  seems  to  be  a  part  of 
the  institution  he  belongs  to  ;  a  piece  of  this  great  organ- 
ism that  has  lived  so  long,  and  comprehended  so  much, 
and  embraced  such  various  life ;  something  of  the  spirit  of 
antiquity  attaches  itself  to  him.  He  is  conservative;  he 
has  a  great  trust,  a  large  reverence,  an  earnestness  in 
thought  and  feeling  that  is  even  impressive  and  beautiful. 
And  yet,  the  churchman,  if  he  be  no  more  than  a  church- 
man, is  considerably  less  than  human.  What  does  he 
think  of  other  churches  ?  Of  the  Roman  Church,  for  in- 
stance— of  the  Greek  Church  ?  What  respect  has  he  for 
strange  forms  of  worship  ?  Does  he  do  more  than  toler- 
ate extremes  that  differ  from  his  own  ?  Does  he  tolerate 
such  as  are  hostile?  The  churchman's  mind  is  slow  and 
opaque ;  his  heart  is  rather  self-satisfied  than  sunny ;  his 
conscience  rather  punctilious  than  sensitive ;  his  worship 
is  formal ;  he  prays  as  the  church  prays — out  of  a  book. 
He  allows  the  church  to  think  for  him,  to  believe  for  him, 
to  worship  for  him,  to  intercede  for  him.     The  church 


THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT.  55 

takes  care  of  him  ;  pardons  liis  sins  ;  guarantees  his  future. 
He  treads  an  ecclesiastical  path,  passes  through  an  eccle- 
siastical doorway,  enters  an  ecclesiastical  heaven.  However 
pleasantly  he  talks  with  other  believers,  it  is  over  a  fence : 
however  graciously  he  looks  at  them,  it  is  with  .eyes  of 
compassion.  He  cannot  help  believing  that  he  is.  in  a 
safer  place  than  they.  You  are  impressed  by  him,  as  by 
one  who  feels  sure  of  his  past,  his  present,  and  also  of  his 
future,  and  is  good  enough  to  be  sorry  that  his  fellow-men 
arc  not  as  sure  of  their  destiny  as  he  is  of  his.  The  ripe- 
ness of  his  belief  prevents  his  being  angular,  but  the  in- 
terior composure  of  his  mind  savors  too  much  of  that  calm 
exclusiveness  which  enjoys  its  spiritual  privacy,  and  keeps 
intruders  out  of  doors.  ' 

The  Radical  cannot  be  a  churchman.  The  church  is  of 
comparatively  modern  origin,  traceable  to  definite  begin- 
nings. It  is  a  production  of  human  wit ;  a  creation  of 
diplomacy.  You  can  easily  go  below  it,  and  get  at  the 
secret  of  it.  The  Catholic  church  claims  to  be  older  than 
the  Bible.  Is  it  older  than  the  Hebrew  Bible — to  mention 
no  others?  The  man  who  strikes  his  roots  into  the  Old 
Testament,  strikes  them  below  the  church.  The  man 
whose  roots  go  down  into  the  soil  of  these  antique  Scrip- 
tures penetrates  below  all  Christendom.  The  Old  Testa- 
ment, the  old  Hebrew  Bible— what  a  world  it  is  !  How 
wonderful  in  extent,  in  comprehensiveness!  What  wealth 
of  antiquity  there  is  in  it !  What  recesses  of  wonder 
and  marvel  it  contains  !  It  covers  a  continent ;  it  absorl  s 
the  life  of  a  race,  and  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  races 
that  ever  lived  on  the  planet.  There  is  in  it  a  universe  of 
thought,  feeling,  conviction,  purpose;  the  experiences  of 
two  thousand  years  are  packed  away  in  its  chapters.  What 
mountain  ranges  of  thought,  what  sweet  valleys  of  medi- 
tation,   what   noble   rivers   of  psalmody,  what   delicious 


56  THE  RADICAL'S  ROOT. 

fountains  and  pure  rivulets  of  praise !  What  power  of 
conviction,  what  reaches  of  exaltation,  what  breadth  of 
hope,  what  vistas  of  anticipation,  what  thrilling  concep- 
tions of  Providence,  of  the  world  that  is,  and  of  the  world 
that  is  to  come !  The  man  who  should  sink  his  roots  so 
deeply  into  the  Old  Bible  that  they  took  up  everything 
there,  would  be  a  giant  among  men.  But  all  depends  on 
the  thoroughness  of  the  exploration.  Does  one  root  him- 
self in  the  letter,  or  in  the  spirit  % — that  is  the  question. 
He  that  roots  himself  in  the  letter  does  not  go  below  the 
surface,  hardly  pierces  the  outer  crust ;  knows  nothing, 
j>erhaps,  of  the  rich  world  of  experience  that  is  stored  in- 
side. ~No w,  the  Old  Testament  man  as  we  see  him  roots 
himself  in  the  letter.  The  Puritan  rooted  himself  in 
the  letter.  He  knew  far  less  than  he  might  of  the 
resources  of  moral  and  spiritual  sustenance  that  lay 
hidden  in  the  spirit  below  the  letter.  The  soil  in  which 
lie  struck  his  root  was  made  up  in  great  measure  of  the 
debris  of  the  Hebrew  mind,  wild  feelings,  fanciful  specu- 
lations, strange  superstitions  and  conceits,  that  are  strewn 
broadcast  over  the  surface  of  the  history  ;  uncouth  beliefs 
in  Providence,  rude  conceptions  of  God  and  man,  gro- 
tesque notions  of  the  constitution  of  the  world,  vagaries 
respecting  the  election  of  certain  races  of  men,  and  the 
rejection  of  others ;  and  the  result  of  all  this  wTas  a  charac- 
ter of  austerity  and  pride,  touched  here  and  there  with  a 
sweet  and  rich  glow  of  piety,  but  having,  as  the  soul  of  it, 
more  reverence  for  law  than  truth,  for  justice  than  for 
love.  The  Puritan  had  a  grand  life  in  him,  but  it  was 
rough  and  severe.  He  was  exclusive,  arbitrary,  and  at 
times  tyrannical.  He  carried  a  rod  of  iron  in  his  hand; 
his  conscience  was  a  rod  of  iron. 

Go  down  below  the  letter  in  which  the  spirit  is  hidden, 
— sink  your  roots  until  you  strike  the  New  Testament,  and 


THE  RADICALS  ROOT.  57 

?! 
you  have  something  infinitely  richer.  The  New  Testa- 
ment is  the  older,  because  it  is  the  heart,  the  soul  of  the 
Old  Testament.  Was  not  Jesus  a  Hebrew,  and  what 
food  did  he  feed  on  but  that  very  Bible  which  we  call  the 
Bible  of  the  Hebrews  ?  What  was  his  peculiarity,  if  not 
this ;  that  he  dropped  roots  down  below  the  surface  of 
the  ancestral  mind  till  they  touched  a  secret  core  of  inspi- 
ration in  the  heart  of  his  race  ?  Everything  he  had  was 
there,  every  thought,  every  feeling,  every  hope,  every 
anticipation  ;  his  trust,  his  faith  in  the  Heavenly  Father, 
his  conception  of  the  paternal  Providence,  his  sentiments 
of  reverence  and  trust,  his  patience,  his  meekness — they 
are  all  there.  But,  with  the  subtile  insight  that  he  possess- 
ed, with  the  exquisite  chemistry  of  his  soul,  he  sent  his 
roots  underground ;  they  ran  out  in  every  direction  until 
they  found  those  sweetest  springs  of  water,  and  drew  the 
sustenance  thence  that  made  them  bud  and  blossom.  When 
you  have  penetrated  the  secret  of  the  Beatitudes,  when 
you  have  got  at  the  soul  of  the  parables,  when  you  have 
searched  out  the  hidden  thought  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  then,  and  not  before,  you  have  touched  the  centre 
of  power  in  the  old  Hebrew  Bible.  And  when  you  have 
done  that,  you  have  struck"  into  the  richest  soil  that  is 
offered  to  the  spiritual  nature  of  the  Christian.  He  that 
will  do  this  will  plant  himself  in  the  heart  of  the  New 
Testament — not  in  the  letter,  not  in  the  strange,  crude, 
fantastical  portions  that  are  heaped  upon  its  surface ;  he 
that,  going  down  below  all  this — below  the  errors,  the 
mistakes,  the  superstitions — finds  his  way  into  the  heart  of 
Jesus  himself,  will  blossom  and  bloom  into  a  life  as  ex- 
quisitely pure,  sweet,  and  beautiful  as  is  ever  seen  in 
Christendom.  He  will  have  the  divinest  qualities,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  most  human ;  he  will  be  able  to  sub- 
mit himself  to  the  Supreme,  and  to  give  himself  to  his 


58  TEE  RADICAL'S  ROOT. 

brothers.  Trust,  patience,  meekness,  reverence — he  will 
have  them  all.  Simplicity,  purity,  charity — all  these  will 
be  his.  The  Christian  Radical  roots  himself  in  the  heart 
of  Jesus;  not  in  his  reported  word,  not  in  his  incidental 
thought,  but  in  the  heart  of  his  heart.  Beyond  that,  out- 
side of  that,  he  does  not  go.  lie  explores  none  of  the 
outlying  regions  of  literature  or  philosophy.  This  beauti- 
ful Jewish  life  is  enough  for  him. 

And  yet,  is  there  nothing  more  ?  Is  this  absolutely 
all?  Is  the  Hebrew  race  the  only  race  to  be  taken  into 
account  ?  Does  God  give  his  inspiration  to  none  but  those 
who  have  lived  in  Palestine  ?  Did  Jesus  exhaust  human- 
ity? Do  we  find  everything  in  the  New  Testament  that 
can  be  worked  into  human  character  ?  Other  races  have 
other  gifts ;  one,  the  sentiment  of  beauty ;  another,  the 
principle  of  justice  ;  another,  the  passion  for  liberty;  an- 
other, the  devotion  to  ideal  truth  in  science  and  philosophy. 
Is  it  forbidden  to  make  excursions  into  the  outlying  litera- 
tures of  China  or  of  Greece,  of  Asia  or  of  Persia,  and  to  draw 
spiritual  nourishment  from  those  larger  sources,  which, 
after  all,  belong  to  human  nature  ?  They  who  can  do  that 
are  the  privileged  ;  they  who  can  do  that  are  the  strong.  The 
true  Radical,  the  Radical  of  the  Radicals,  sinks  his  shafts 
below  sect,  church,  Bible,  Old  or  ]STew;  below  all  partial 
experience  ;  clown  into  the  secret  places  where  man  has 
stored  his  treasures  of  thought,  and  by  all  that,  tries  to  live. 

Orthodoxy  is  rigid  thinking  •  but  who  can  claim  to 
think  rightly?  How  is  one  to  know  that  he  thinks  right- 
ly ?  It  is  very  plain  that  nobody  thus  far  has  earned  a 
title  to  monopolize  right  opinion.  To  think  rightly,  is  to 
exhaust  thought.  Xo  one  can  be  truly  orthodox  as  long 
as  there  is  knowledge  yet  to  be  acquired.  Only  the  di- 
vine mind  is  orthodox,  because  only  the  divine  mind  is 
omniscient,  and  being  omniscient,   entertains   no   error, 


TEE  RADICAL'S  ROOT.  59 

Up  to  this  day  there  is  no  human  orthodoxy.     He  is  most 
orthodox  who  thinks  most  closely  to  facts. 

We  speak  of  new  truth.  There  is,  correctly  speaking, 
no  new  truth.  All  truth  is  old  as  God  himself.  There 
are  new  interpretations  of  truth,  new  guesses  at  truth,  new 
insights  into  truth,  new  readings  of  truth  ;  but  the  Truth 
is  more  ancient  than  antiquity;  it  is  as  old  as  the  world  ; 
the  last  reading  only  comes  nearer  the  first  text.  To  be 
orthodox,  therefore,  we  need  all  the  knowledge  there  is 
— of  literature,  science,  art.  The  Radical  accepts  the  last 
interpretation  (so  it  be  a  satisfactory  one),  the  last  inter- 
pretation of  the  oldest  truth.  Those  who  accept  older  in- 
terpretations are  further  off  from  the  original  sources  than 
he  is.  The  "Radical  is  one  who  usea  the  last  invented 
plow  for  his  tillage,  because  it  subsoils  most  thoroughly. 
What  he  wants  is  the  old,  original,  primeval  truth;  the 
truth  that  is  symbolized  in  nature,  which  the  Infinite 
mind,  in  its  first  perfect  operation,  embodied  in  the  uni- 
verse. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  Radical,  let  me  say  finally,  the 
test  of  the  Radical's  genuineness,  is  not  that  he  holds  a 
certain  class  of  opinions;  it  is,  that  he  uses  the  opinions 
he  entertains.  It  is  not  his  peculiarity  to  question  and 
doubt,  to  cavil  and  raise  issues ;  it  is  not  restlessness  of 
mind ;  least  of  all  is  it  flippancy,  indifference,  looseness  or 
lightness  of  conviction.  Let  me  declare  again,  he  is  not  a 
destroyer.  The  true  Radical  is  known  not  by  his  restless- 
ness, but  by  his  calmness  ;  not  by  his  flippancy,  but  by  his 
seriousness;  not  by  his  indifference,  but  by  his  earnest- 
ness; not  by  the  lightness  of  his  speech  about  the  great 
beliefs  of  mankind,  but  by  the  soberness  of  his  speech 
about  them.  He  is  known  by  his  patience,  his  cheerful- 
ness, his  serenity,  his  trust ;  the  singleness  of  his  purpose, 
the  weight  of  his  opinion,  his  freedom  from  prejudice,  his 


GO  THE  RADICAL'S  BOOT. 

openness  to  discovery,  his  thankfulness  for  light.  He  is 
one  who  stands  deeply  rooted  and  firmly  planted.  "  He 
stands  four  square  to  all  the  winds  that  blow."  His  very 
name  implies  that  he  is  rooted  and  grounded.  He  is  rooted 
and  grounded — not  in  prejudice  or  tradition,  not  in  dog- 
ma or  formula,  not  in  sacraments  or  institutions — he  is 
rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  that  even  passes  knowledge. 


IV. 

THE  JOY  OF  A  FKEE  FAITH. 

npHE  theme  of  this  discourse  is  the  joy  of  a  free  faith. 
-*-  My  thoughts  have  been  turned  to  this  subject  by  a  tone 
of  remark  both  frequent  and  confident,  which  reveals  a  com- 
mon persuasion  that  a  free  faith  is  incapable  of  producing  joy. 
"We  hear  a  good  deal  about  the  sadness  of  the  "radicals" 
as  they  are  called,  the  air  of  discontent  they  carry  about 
with  them,  the  melancholy  cast  of  their  sentiment,  the  tone 
of  uneasiness  and  pain  that  runs  through  their  writings, 
the  evident  depression  of  their  moral  state.  I  do  not 
know  that  any  effort  is  made  to  prove  this  by  examples  ; 
that  would  not  be  easy,  for  as  a  class  the  radicals  are  re- 
markably cheerful.  But  the  fact  that  no  attempt  is  made 
to  prove  it,  shows  how  deep  the  persuasion  is.  The  mel- 
ancholy of  the  radicals  is  taken  for  granted,  as  a  thing  that 
needs  no  proof,  that  is  a  thing  of  course,  that  could  not  but 
follow  from  their  beliefs  ;  men,  the  assumption  is,  cannot 
think  as  they  do  and  not  be  sad ;  their  world  so  dark, 
their  God  so  far  off,  their  Saviour  so  inaccessible,  their 
destiny  so  clouded :  men  must  be  melancholy  without  the 
sunshine. 

True,  they  must ;  sunshine  is  the  cause  of  health  and 
life,  physical  and  moral.  If  this  common  charge  were  well 
founded  it  would  be  fatal.  Beliefs  that  do  not  beget  joy 
in  the  minds  that  entertain  them  are  not  likely  to  be  true. 
Joy  is  the  test  of  sanity.  Joy  is  health ;  joy  is  purity  ; 
joy  is  goodness.     The  joyous  man  is  grateful,  innocent, 


62  THE  JOY  OF  A  FREE  FAITH. 

kind.  Human  nature  like  animal  nature  blackens  in  the 
gloom.  Yice,  crime,  sin  flourish  in  the  shadow.  A  joy- 
ous world  would  be  a  perfect  world.  This  is  confessed  in 
the  anxiety  of  sects  to  make  it  appear  that  their  members 
alone  are  happy.  The  Romanist  claims  a  superiority  in 
this  respect  above  the  Protestant,  contrasting  the  cheerful- 
ness of  his  religion  with  the  austere  tenets  of  Luther  and 
Calvin,  his  own  brightheartedness  with  the  others'  painful 
anxieties.  The  Churchman  remarks  scornfully  on  the 
grim  disposition  of  the  Puritan.  The  "  Evangelical " 
commiserates  the  Unitarian,  deprived  of  the  celestial  so- 
laces and  inspirations  that  come  to  him  through  faith  in 
the  Redeemer.  The  Unitarian  hears  an  undertone  of 
complaint  and  weariness  in  the  speech  of  the  Rationalists, 
who  have  cut  themselves  adrift  from  the  shadowy  ark  in 
which  he  fancies  himself  to  be  floating.  Possibly  the  Ra- 
tionalist pities  those  who  have  reduced  the  articles  of  faith 
still  lower  than  he  has,  and  who  seem  to  him  to  have 
thrown  away  the  last  plank  that  was  bearing  them  towards 
heaven.  Even  Theodore  Parker,  heartiest  of  men,  pro- 
fessed a  deep  compassion  for  those  who  did  not  share  his 
faith  in  the  soul's  innate  assurance  of  God  and  immortal- 
ity. "  JSTo  rainbow  beautifies  that  cloud  ;  there  is  thunder 
in  it,  not  light.  Night  is  behind — without  a  star."  This 
feeling,  of  course,  is  not  rational ;  it  is  born  of  prejudice, 
not  of  observation.  There  are  sad  people  in  all  faiths, 
and  there  are  joyous  people  in  all  faiths ;  both  the  joyous- 
ness  and  the  sadness  proceed  perhaps  from  temperament, 
and  would  exist  under  any  forms  of  belief.  The  springs 
of  sadness  and  of  gladness  are  within,  deep  down,  and 
often  hidden,  their  connection  with  modes  of  opinion  being 
concealed  entirely.  The  physicist  says  that  the  brightest 
light  as  a  rule  proceeds  from  the  blackest  substances;  so 
the   most   radiant   happiness   may   have   its   sources,   for 


THE  JOT  OF  A  FREE  FAITH.  63 

auglit  we  know,  in  pools  of  sentiment  that  to  the  ordinary 
eye  look  stygian  in  blackness. 

It  is  not  fair  to  argue  from  special  instances.  The  poet 
Cowper  was  a  faithful  believer  in  the  evangelical  scheme 
of  salvation,  and  yet  was  a  most  unhappy  man,  his  joy- 
lessness  being  a  cause  of  anxiety  to  his  friends,  and  of 
torment  to  himself.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  the  foremost 
man  among  American  free  believers,  is  one  of  the  most 
felicitous  spirits  alive ;  he  lives  in  the  atmosphere  of 
serene  ideas,  joyous  and  a  perpetual  cause  of  joy.  The 
explanation  of  the  two  cases  is  to  be  found  in  the  the  tem- 
perament of  the  two  persons ;  that  of  Cowper  was  morbid  and 
low,  with  a  streak  of  insanity  running  through  it ;  that  of 
Emerson  is  clear  and  bright,  with  a  natural  healthf ulness  in 
it  that  sheds  abroad  an  aroma  as  from  pine  trees  or  newly 
mown  hay.  The  temperament  of  Cowper  would  have 
taken  the  sunshine  out  of  the  most  radiant  of  faiths  ;  the 
temperament  of  Emerson  would  make  flowers  bloom  from 
the  most  wintry  ground. 

The  moral  effects  of  religious  beliefs  can  be  judged  only 
from  an  observation  of  wide  spaces  and  of  continuous 
years.  Generations  must  be  born  in  them,  and  must  drink 
them  in  with  the  mother's  milk.  They  must  form  the 
minds  of  children,  and  of  childrens'  children,  being  ac- 
cepted without  question,  applied  without  misgiving, 
expressed  in  literature,  voiced  in  song,  condensed  into 
practical  maxims  of  duty,  mixed  with  the  substance  of 
domestic  feeling,  incorporated  with  habitual  states  of  mind. 
When  thus  lived  on  and  worked  over,  faiths  modify  tem- 
perament, shape  it,  induce  it.  A  religion  will  create  its 
own  type  of  sentiment,  as  climate  creates  its  own  type  of 
animal  and  plant.  All  beliefs  have  their  fresh,  creative 
period,  and  by  this  they  must  be  judged.  When  that 
period  is  passed,  the  virtue  goes  out  of  them  ;  they  create 


64:  THE  JOT  OF  A  FREE  FAITH. 

no  more ;  they  tend  then  to  nncreate,  to  disorganize.  The 
relation  of  the  living  mind  to  them  being  disturbed,  there 
is  no  more  wholesome  reciprocity  of  action,  no  cordial  un- 
derstanding, no  consent  of  feeling,  disposition,  or  purpose. 
The  reason  criticizes,  the  heart  rebels,  the  conscience 
doubts  and  questions,  the  soul  wavers.  The  faith  shows 
no  longer  its  happy  aspect :  the  reverse  side  alone 
ajrpears. 

This  is  the  position  of  the  "  Evangelical "  system  in  our 
generation.  The  ages  when  people  cordially  believed  it 
are  gone  by;  the  ages  when  they  can  be  sure  of  extract- 
ing joy  from  it  are  rapidly  going.  Looking  over,  the  other 
day,  the  correspondence  of  Theodore  Parker,  I  was 
struck  by  the  number  of  letters  addressed  to  him  that 
expressed  gratitude  for  deliverance  from  agonies  of  soul 
that  were  produced  by  the  "  Evangelical "  theology.  They 
were  full  of  groans,  some  of  them  bleeding  in  every  line. 
My  own  correspondents  tell  the  same  story  of  distress. 
People  of  every  shade  of  theological  opinion,  from  Cal- 
vinism to  Unitarian  ism,  describe  themselves  as  awaking 
from  a  dream-haunted  sleep,  and  are  as  thankful  for  what 
is  called  infidelity,  as  the  victim  of  nightmare  is  for  the 
dawn.  People  I  meet  among  my  own  acquaintance  who 
are  at  times  brought  to  the  verge  of  insanity  by  horrid 
visions  proceeding  from  their  impressions  of  the  ordinary 
faith  of  Christendom  :  they  cannot  banish  them ;  they 
cannot  forget  them  ;  they  cannot  reason  them  away ;  their 
minds  cannot  clear  themselves  of  the  dogmatical  rubbish 
that  clogs  all  the  highways  and  byways  of  thought.  The 
people  are  becoming  fewer  and  ever  fewer  in  number  to 
whom  the  common  faith  of  Christendom  brings  joy. 
There  are  such,  no  doubt,  both  old  and  young :  we  may  be 
sure  there  are;  but  it  is  a  question  whether  the  joy  is  as 
intense  or  as  long-lived  as  it  was  in  the  palmy  days  of  the 


THE  JOT  OF  A  FREE  FAITH.  G5 

faith.  The  genius  of  the  system  is  on  the  wane ;  its  cre- 
ative force  is  spent ;  and  the  ecstacy  that  accompanied  the 
fresh  experience  of  its  truth  is  sensibly  diminished.  The 
rapture  of  conversion  is  often  followed  by  disappointment 
and  dejection.  The  height,  if  readied,  is  held  but  for  a 
moment,  then  comes  a  reaction,  sometimes  into  terrible 
apathy  and  gloom. 

Every  faith  is  joyous  in  its  triumphant  days  ;  every 
faith  has  its  triumphant  days,  when  it  is  creative,  when  it 
stands  for  light  and  liberty,  when  it  promises  and  confers 
emancipation.  What  heavens  Romanism  during  the 
"  dark  ages  "  opened  to  unenlightened  masses  of  mankind 
in  the  ancient  European  world  !  What  liberation  from 
the  bondage  of  the  animal  nature,  from  the  despotism  of 
institutions,  from  the  crushing  dullness  of  ignorance,  stu- 
pidity, monotony,  vice,  violence !  The  portal  of  the 
church  must  have  seemed  literally  the  gate  to  paradise. 
The  cathedral  was  a  place  of  enchantment;  the  music  and 
incense,  the  pictured  madonna,  the  carved  Clirist,  the 
emblem  of  godhead,  the  symbol  of  eternity,  the  chapel, 
the  altar,  the  lamp  of  silver  and  gold,  the  marble  floor, 
the  stone  ceiling,  the  clustered  pillars  reaching  into  the 
shadow,  the  silent  priests  in  their  gorgeous  robes,  the 
chanting  boys,  the  mystery  of  the  mass,  the  crowds  of 
angels,  the  space  filled  with  fancies  of  celestial  beings,  the 
brotherhood  of  believers,  the  communion  of  saints,  the 
endless  vistas  into  the  world  to  come,  charmed  and  trans- 
ported the  mind.  It  all  meant  to  the  worshipper,  free- 
dom ;  freedom  from  doubt  and  fear,  freedom  from  pain 
and  sorrow.  It  gave  room  for  faith  to  soar,  for  hope  to 
singr  for  thought  to  wander.  The  oppression  that  we 
discover  in  the  system  was  unfelt ;  the  yoke  was  easy ;  the 
burden  was  light ;  the  glory  alone  was  visible. 

In  Luther's  day  the  approaching  change  was  felt.     The 


CG  TEE  JOY  OF  A  FREE  FAITH. 

heart  of  the  early  Protestant  swelled  with  joy  at  the 
thought  that  the  spell  was  broken.  He  was  free  from 
popery  and  prelacy,  from  mass  and  mummery,  from  priest- 
craft and  ritualism.  lie  could  read  the  Bible  with  open 
eyes ;  lie  could  pray  out  of  his  own  heart ;  he  could  ap- 
proach his  Saviour  face  to  face  ;  he  could  trust  his  soul. 
His  emancipated  spirit  revelled  in  the  delight  of  unre- 
stricted faith  and  adoration.  lie  was  a  bird  loosed  from  a 
cage.  He  was  a  prisoner  released  from  his  dungeon.  All 
he  saw  was  the  gladdening  light  ;  all  he  felt  was  the  genial 
temperature  of  the  day. 

To  the  early  Puritan  his  faith  brought  joy,  deep  and 
serene.  To  him  the  austere  features  did  not  present  them- 
selves. From  him  the  terrible  side  that  is  turned  towards 
us,  was  hidden.  The  sweetness  alone  he  knew.  He  had 
vistas  and  openings  where  to  us  are  only  closed  doors. 
Believing  himself  conceived  in  sin  and  shaped  in  iniquity, 
a  child  of  wrath  by  nature,  it  was  unspeakable  ecstacy  for 
him  to  be  told  that  a  way  was  prepared  by  which  he  could 
pass  out  of  his  prison-house  into  the  open  sunlight  of 
God's  favor.  Conscious  of  his  own  inability  to  escape 
from  the  wrath  his  nature  deserved,  could  he  be  grateful 
enough  for  the  Redeemer  who  suffered  the  pains  of  per- 
dition in  his  stead,  and  made  it  possible  for  him  to 
mount  to  heavenly  places  by  means  of  a  simple  act  of 
faith,  which  consisted  in  disavowing  the  private  merit  he 
never  possessed,  and  in  loving  the  greatest  of  benefactors  ? 
The  Christ  was  an  awful  judge:  but  1irst  of  all  he  was  a 
gracious  Saviour,  and  In;  judged  nunc  but  those  he  had 
done  his  utmost  to  save;  only  they  who  refused  his  pity 
incurred  bis  wrath.  Was  the  vicarious  atonement  an 
affront  to  reason  \  He  viewed  it  as  a  divine  mystery  be- 
fore which  be  bent  in  humble  awe.  The  everlasting  tor- 
ments of  the  damned  were  awful  to  contemplate  ;  but  the 


THE  JOT  OF  A  FREE  FAITH.  07 

Redeemer  came  to  rescue  mankind  from  them.  In  that 
entrancing  belief  all  painful  contemplations  were  swallow- 
ed up.  The  earnest  Puritan  could  not  dwell  on  thoughts 
of  hell,  he  saw  only  heaven.  The  reflection  which  tortures 
us  is,  that  the  privilege  is  not  extended  to  all ;  that  the 
divine  grace  is  restricted  to  a  few.  "  Many  are  called, 
hut  few  chosen,"  says  the  Holy  Book,  and  the  few  are 
foreordained  to  that  felicity  from  the  beginning  of  the 
world.  But  faith  saw  a  way  of  escape  out  of  this  dilem- 
ma ;  faith  saw  only  the  way  of  escape ;  the  dilemma  did 
not  exist  for  it.  All  are  chosen  who  choose  to  be.  Are 
they  few  ?  That  is  because  few  respond  to  the  call.  The 
few  might  be  many,  and  any  individual  of  the  many  may 
be  entitled  to  count  himself  among  the  few.  It  is  ground 
of  general  rejoicing  that  the  grace  is  offered  to  all ;  it  is 
ground  of  special  congratulation  that  each  may  have  the 
consciousness  of  being  numbered  among  the  "  elect." 
Thus  the  faith,  in  any  particular  case,  meant  emancipa- 
tion, and  emancipation  meant  delight. 

But  the  Unitarian  has  lost  the  key.  He  sees  only  the 
naked,  repulsive  dogma,  and  wonders  that  human  creatures 
are,  or  ever  were,  able  to  live  under  it.  He  rejoices  in 
having  cast  the  burden  of  fear  off.  lie  exults  in  the  idea 
that  he  has  liberated  himself  from  a  cruel  bondage,  coarse, 
pitiless,  terrifying,  the  bondage  of  an  iron  creed,  every 
article  of  which  was  a  dogma  offensive  to  reason  and  hate- 
ful to  the  heart. 

Careful  reflection  makes  this  evident :  that  every  faith 
bring:-  joy  to  the  devout  believers  who  interpret  it  from 
the  inside,  that  no  faith  brings  joy  to  the  unbelievers  who 
criticize  it  from  the  outside.  Every  faith  is  a  joyous  one 
in  its  living  period,  no  faith  is  joyous  in  its  period  of  de- 
cline. And  this  besides  is  evident,  that  freedom  and  joy 
are  closely  associated,  that  freedom  indeed  is  joy.     The 


G8  -  THE  JOY  OF  A  FREE  FAITH. 

freest  faith  gives  most  joy.  To  this  conclusion  we  are 
brought  at  length.  Let  a  faith  be  free,  truly  free,  let  it 
be  considered  in  the  light  of  its  freedom,  let  the  element 
of  freedom  in  it  be  recognized  and  felt,  and  joy  will  of 
necessity  result,  as  exhilaration  results  from  a  pure  atmos- 
phere, as  the  sweet  summer  morning  bestows  sensations 
of  pleasure.  If  the  rational  faith  be  the  freest  of  all,  it 
must  be  the  most  joyous  of  all.  Is  it  the  freest  of  all  ?  I 
claim  that  it  is. 

It  is  freer  than  any  other  from  superstition,  and  that  is 
the  soul  of  all  freedom,  as  superstition  is  the  soul  of  all 
bondage.  Romanism  delivered  men  from  the  grosser  su- 
perstitions of  heathenism.  Protestantism  delivered  men 
from  the  grosser  superstitions  of  Romanism.  The  Uni- 
tarian movement  delivered  men  from  the  grosser  super- 
stitions of  Protestantism.  But  Rational  faith  aims  at  de- 
livering men  from  all  superstition,  whatever  its  name ; 
the  superstition  of  the  Church,  the  superstition  of  the 
Bible,  the  superstition  of  the  dogma,  the  superstition  of 
the  sect,  party,  organization,  order ;  the  superstition  of  the 
Romanist,  who  ascribes  supernatural  powers  to  an  institu- 
tion ;  of  the  Lutheran  and  Calvinist,  who  ascribe  super- 
natural powers  to  a  book  ;  of  the  Unitarian,  who  thinks  it 
a  matter  of  vital  moment  that  people  should  hold  to  a 
faint  reminiscence  of  all  these. 

The  Rational  believer  is  happy  only  when  the  last  frag- 
ment of  superstition  disappears  from  his  mind,  and  he  is 
free  to  walk  abroad  wherever  intelligence  leads  him.  In 
proportion  as  one  is  able  to  do  this,  is  he  joyous. 

Superstition  is  reliance  for  special  aid  on  supernatural 
powers ;  it  is  a  sense  of  dependence  on  the  will  of  such 
powers.  They  may  be  gods  or  demi-gods,  demons,  spirits, 
angels,  imps,  beings  physical  or  metaphysical,  evil  or  good, 
powers  of  the  air,  or  of  the  earth  ;  the  principle  working 


THE  JOT  OF  A  FREE  FAITH.  69 

through  them  all  is  the  same.  The  superstitious  man  is 
one  who  imagines  that  his  health  and  wealth  depend,  not 
on  his  conformity  with  natural  laws  and  conditions,  but 
on  the  observance  of  certain  portents  or  signs  on  which 
the  favor  of  the  besetting  demon  hangs.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  any  living  person  is  totally,  at  all  moments  and 
in  all  moods,  free  from  superstition ;  it  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that  the  moments  when  he  is  free  are  the  happiest. 
It  is  a  curious  fact  that  superstition  is  commonly  char- 
acterized as  dark.  Whenever  it  is  recognized  it  is  re- 
cognized as  dark — all  superstitions  are  confessedly  dark 
except  our  own — and  these  last  we  do  not  acknowledge. 
And  superstition  is  dark  ;  always  dark.  Such  a  thing  as  a 
bright  and  beautiful  superstition,  such  a  thing  as  an  inno- 
cent superstitution,  does  not,  exactly  speaking,  exist.  The 
fairy  fictions  of  the  nursery  are  not  necessarily  super- 
stition. They  may  be  fanciful,  and  poetic,  and  nothing 
more.  The  child  is  fond  of  reading  about  the  fairies,  but 
rarely  expects  aught  from  them.  If  he  does,  no  happiness 
ever  ensues.  Be  the  superintending  power  ever  so  kind, 
be  the  providence  ever  so  gracious,  be  the  watching  spirits 
ever  so  loving,  the  feeling  that  something  must  be  done  to 
keep  the  guardian  genius  in  good  humor  lest  evil  befal, 
disables  the  will  and  causes  anxiety  to  the  heart.  Some- 
thing has  been  done  or  left  undone,  which  may  put  im- 
portant interests  in  jeopardy  ;  one  can  never  be  quite  cer- 
tain that  the  gracious  powers  have  been  duly  propitiated. 
If  one  feels  that  he  has  not  prayed  often  enough  or  aright, 
that  he  has  neglected  the  observance  of  a  day  or  the  use  of 
a  ceremony,  that  he  has  fallen  short  in  some  point  of  doc- 
trine, or  been  careless  in  the  performance  of  a  stated  duty, 
and  has  thus  made  himself  liable  to  disaster,  however  slight 
the  matter  may  be,  however  incidental,  a  shadow  falls  on 
the  spirit. 


70  THE  JOT  OF  A  FREE  FAITH. 

\  Tlicrc  is  no  serenity  except  in  a  sweet  strong  confidence 
in  the  natural  integrity  of  the  universe,  in  the  prevalence 
everywhere  of  cause  raid  effect,  in  the  tender  immutabil- 
ity of  law.  He  alone  is  happy  who  believes  that  nothing 
happens  ;  that  whatever  comes,  comes  through  cause  and 
effect,  rationally.  He  alone  is  joyous  who  feels  glad  that 
it  is  so,  who  answers  the  encompassing  forces  with  meek 
obedience,  asking  nothing  better  than  their  ordinances  ap- 
point. To  feel  that  all  is  well,  though  no  gift  is  brought 
to  the  unseen,  and  no  propitiation  offered — to  feel  safe, 
though  at  home  in  church  time,  or  in  the  fields  on  the 
Sabbath — to  feel  safe  though  the  Bible  be  unread,  the 
communion  table  unapproached,  the  creed  unrecited,  all 
pious  conventionalities  disregarded — to  feel  safe  on  all  days 
and  in  all  places  alike — to  be  able  to  read  all  books,  study 
all  knowledge,  converse  with  all  persons,  entertain  all 
thoughts — to  have  no  misgivings  lest  the  well-meaning  mind 
be  pounced  upon  unawares  from  behind  some  stick  or  stone 
— to  feel  quite  at  home  in  what  thoughtless  people  call  the 

'  outer  darkness  of  unbelief,  by  whatever  ugly  name  known 
— to  live  as  in  a  friendly  universe,  cheerily,  hopefully, 
knowing  that  if  we  ascend  up  into  heaven  there  is  good- 
ness, that  if  we  make  our  bed  in  the  underworld  there  is 
goodness  still,  that  if  we  take  the  wings  of  the  morning 
and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea,  the  same 
goodness  leads  and  supports — this  is  to  be  full  of  joy. 
And  in  this  way  the  rational  man  lives,  fitting  himself  as 
well  as  he  can  into  the  conditions  of  the  world  he  is  a 
part  of,  and  trusting  the  well-knit  constitution  of  things. 
Should  he  not  therefore  be  joyous  who  is  a  perfect  free- 
man ? 

The  anxiety  of  certain  liberal  people,  lest  they  should 
not  have  found  the  whole  truth,  lest  in  some  point  they 
should  misbelieve,  betrays  the  spirit  of  superstition  in  a 


TUE  JOY  OF  A  FREE  FAITH.  71 

form  perilous  through  attenuated.  The  impression  that 
souls  are  in  danger  of  some  calamity  in  this  world  or  the 
next  unless  they  have  in  possession  the  talisman  of  a 
correct  faith  ;  the  impression  that  mistaken  opinions  in 
regard  to  the  secret'  of  the  universe  expose  people  to  ma- 
lignant influences  from  some  adversary  who  lurks  in  error, 
is  one  of  those  subtle  illusions  which  will  destroy  the 
peace  of  even  noble  minds.  How  can  we  avoid  mistaken 
opinions?  How  can  we  obtain  certainly  true  ones? 
"What  right  has  any  body  to  think  that  there  are  beliefs 
in  which  people  are  necessarily  unhappy  or  unsafe  ? 
What  right  has  any  body  to  intimate  that  his  neighbor  is 
on  the  wav  to  that  wilderness  where  lions  are  waitino;  to 
devour,  and  no  springs  are  gushing  from  the  ground  ?  We 
shall  not  have  got  rid  of  superstition  till  we  have  got  rid 
of  a  sorry  notion  like  that,  and  have  become  fairly  foot- 
loose in  the  realm  of  mind,  not  as  nomads  or  roving 
Bedouins  who  have  no  abiding-place,  but  as  citizens  of  the 
intellectual  world,  who  are  always  at  home  with  the  spirit- 
ual laws.  The -joy  of  having  this  freedom  of  the  universe 
is  something  that  cannot  be  described  to  one  that  has  never 
experienced  it.  To  have  the  night  as  bright  as  the  day, 
no  terrors  in  the  dark,  is  a  privilege  which  none  but  the 
most  emancipated  minds  know,  but  it  is  a  privilege  which 
the  rational  faith  would  gladly  bestow  on  all  men. 

For  this  faith  releases  us  completely  from  the  bondage 
of  fear.  It  does  not  comprehend  fear.  What  is  there  to 
be  afraid  of,  except  fear  itself?  The  great  fear  is  the  fear 
of  death.  What  a  feature  that  has  been  in  religion  ! 
And  religion,  that  should  have  taken  it  away,  has  intensi- 
fied it.  The  natural  terror  of  death  is  not  great.  The 
artificial  terror  of  it  is  immense.  Death  is  the  point  upon 
which  the  older  forms  of  faith  accumulate  terrors.  Con- 
sider the  part  that  death  plays  in  the  drama  of  redemp- 


7  2  1  'SE  JO  Y  OF  A  FREE  FA  TTIT. 


•v 


tion.  What  gloomy  pageantry  the  Church  of  Home 
associates  with  it!  What  frightful  issues  Protestantism 
hangs  on  its  fluttering  moments!  This  most  natural  ar- 
rangement of  providence  has  been  Beized  on  by  preacher 
and  priest,  and  worked  up  into  a  grotesque  importance 
that  completely  conceals  it.-  original  character.  The  ap- 
proaches of  death  arc  lined  with  awe  and  draped  with 
mystery;*  the  circumstances  of  death  arc  exaggerated  into 
a  ghastly  importance ;  the  hour  of  death  is  watched  with 
painful  solicitude:  the  bearing  in  death  is  commented  on 
fearfully.  By  the  bedside  stands  the  priest  with  chalice 
and  book,  prayer  and  holy  water.  The  ceremonies  pre- 
pared for  the  last  hour  are  made  to  convey  the  feeling 
that  the  great  crisis  of  existence  has  come,  and  that  the 
departing  soul  has  struck  into  the  path  of  its  final  doom. 
The  old  religion  did  what  it  could  and  does  what  it  canto 
deepen  the  solemnity  and  magnify  the  issues  of  death. 
If  there  were  no  death  the  whole  system  would  give  way; 
the  church  would  lose  the  very  ground  of  its  exi 
the  curtain  would  fall  on  the  drama  of  redemption  ;  the 
whole  machinery  of  salvation  would  be  consigned  to  the 
lumber  room.  Of  the  people  that  make  death  the  subject 
of  much  thought,  the  Spiritualists  alone  take  the  happy 
view  of  it  which  characterized  the  earliest  Christians, 
especially  the  disciples  of  Paul,  who  regarded  death  as  a 
process  of  transfiguration.  The  so-called  "  liberal  "sects  of 
Christendom  dwell  still  under  the  shadow,  more  or  less 
dense,  of  the  ancient  fear.  The  incidents  of  death  are 
still  in  keeping  of  theology,  by  which  it  is  regarded  as  a 
supernatural,  not  as  a  natural  fact,  and  the  efforts  of 
divines  to  keep  it  within  the  circle  of  those  associations 
are  incessant. 

The  rational  faith  restores  death  to  its  legitimate  place 
among  the  phenomena  of  nature,  and  by  so  doing  emanci- 


THE  JOY  OF  A  FREE  FAITH.  73 

pates  mankind  from  a  crushing  fear  ;  it  rolls  a  heavy  bur- 
den from  the  mind,  reclaims  from  the  dominion  of  gloom 
large  tracts  of  experience,  lets  in  light  on  sickness,  old 
age,  the  weakening  and  decay  of  faculty,  the  departure  of 
friends,  the  chamber  of  decline,  the  last  bed,  removes  the 
hideous  spectre  from  the  edge  of  the  grave.  Questions 
respecting  the  hereafter  it  leaves  open  to  science  and  phil- 
osophy, taking  them  from  the  exclusive  possession  of  priests 
and  preachers.  It  bids  theology  be  silent,  and  reason 
speak.  The  sense  of  relief  is  unspeakable.  Existence 
recovers  its  fair  proportions.  The  activities  of  life  come 
into  play.  Cndustry  takes  courage,  affection  blooms,  pri- 
vilege invites,  and  pleasure  .-.miles.  The  awful  anticipation 
is  put  out  of  sight,  or  contemplated  with  calmness.  Life 
is  free  to  use  up  to  Life's  last  hour,  and  the  end  is  thought 
of  only  when  it  eon; 

But  no  words  of  description,  no  words  specifying  ad- 
vantages gained,  do  the  least  justice  to  the  happy  emotions 
of  this  great  victory.  The  joy  brims  over;  the  heart  is 
renewed  ;  poetry  and  song  express  the  fresh  delight;  the 
faces  of  men  and  women  declare  if  in  their  radiant  looks; 
family  affection  feels  it ;  flowers  take  the  place  of  the 
shroud  ;  the  coffin  is  a  casket ;  a  thousand  signs  indicate 
the  bright  change  that  has  come  over  the  moral  wrorld. 

How  can  people  thus  emancipated  from  fear  be  charged 
with  gloom  ?  Where  do  they  who  bring  the  charge  find 
their  justification  ?  In  their  own  fears.  The  rational  be- 
lievers, "  red  republicans  "  of  religion  as  they  have  been 
called,  are  supposed  to  be  in  danger  from  their  own  free- 
dom in  a  world  infested  by  wild  beasts.  But  what  if  they 
see  in  freedom  the  only  chance  of  escaping  from  the  beasts  ? 
What  if  the  creatures  suspected  of  being  wild  beasts  turn 
out  to  be  not  wild  beasts  at  all,  but  useful  domestic  ani- 
mals. 

4 


74  THE  JOY  OF  A  FREE  FAITH. 

The  rationalists,  it  is  said,  still,  as  of  old,  are  without 
God  in  the  world.  If  the  allegation  were  that  they  had 
too  much  God  in  the  world  it  would  be  more  intelligible, 
for  this  assertion  more  nearly  states  the  facts  in  the  case. 
Without  God  in  the  world  !  Can  we  be  in  God's  world, 
without  God  \  They  only  make  the  accusation  who  be- 
lieve that  through  and  through  this  is  not  God's  world,  that 
vast  tracts  of  the  universe  are  unreclaimed  by  deity,  that 
God  has  here  and  there  a  stronghold  where  his  children 
may  be  safe  from  robbers;  a  fortress  in  Jerusalem,  another 
in  Home,  another  in  Constantinople^  another  in  "Westmin- 
ster, another  in  Cambrid^  ;  a  castle  called  "  Church,"  a 
castle  called  "  Scripture,"  a  castle  called  "Articles;"  each 
a  walled  city,  large  enough  to  contain  many  thousands  of 
souls,  but  to  which  the  souls  must  resort  from  the  outer 
regions  of  science,  philosophy,  literature,  and  art.  To  those 
who  believe  this  in  any  sense,  it  must  seem  a  sad  thing  to 
be  wandering  at  large  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  in  exile 
of  course,  in  danger  and  destitution  equally  of  course. 

Theology  insists  on  the  minimum  of  God.  It  would 
limit  him  to  times  and  seasons;  it  would  confine  him  to 
points  of  space,  assign  to  him  particular  spots  on  the  earth's 
surface,  and  forbid  his  going  forth  in  the  world  at  large. 
But  suppose  we  substitute  for  the  minimum  of  God  the 
maximum  ;  suppose,  instead  of  speaking  of  God  as  some- 
where," we  speak  of  him  as  everywhere  ;  what  then  ?  Must 
not  the  joy  of  his  presence  be  diffused  %  If  we  take  his 
spirit  from  the  Bible,  and  spread  it  over  the  human  mind  ; 
if  we  take  his  life  from  Palestine  and  distribute  it  over 
Europe,  England,  America  ;  if  we  destroy  the  theologian's 
monopoly  of  him,  and  allow  the  chemist,  the  naturalist, 
the  economist,  the  inventor,  the  artizan,  the  industrial 
worker  to  have  their  share ;  if  we  break  up  the  exclusive 
proprietorship  of  the  Church,  and  let  civilization  enjoy  a 


THE  JOT  OF  A  FREE  FAITH.  f  5 

portion  of  the  advantage  that  his  presence  confers ;  if  we 
dismantle  the  fortresses  of  revelation  and  quarter  the  ar- 
mies of  the  living  God  about  in  the  homes  of  mankind, 
must  we  not  by  so  doing  impart  to  the  many  the  gladness 
that  was  appropriated  by  the  few  \ 

It  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  free  faith  that  it  cannot  be 
without  God  in  the  world,  for  it  identifies  God  with  order, 
harmony,  and  beauty,  and  these  are  everywhere,  in  the 
world  of  matter  and  the  world  of  mind.  To  perceive  this 
only  by  glimpses  is  ecstacy ;  to  have  the  thought  always 
before  one  is  a  perpetual  enchantment.  The  devout  be- 
liever in  the  living  operations  of  law,  if  there  be  such  a 
man,  must  be  as  joyous  as  the  lot  of  mortals  permits.  It 
he  be  free  from  bodily  ailment,  from  the  pinch  of  hunger, 
from  the  sting  of  cold  ;  if  his  physical  and  mental  powers 
be  unimpaired,  existence  to  him  cannot  be  other  than  a 
delight.  With  the  conditions  I  have  mentioned  he  must 
be  free  from  sorrow.  His  mind  cannot  sutler  from  doubt ; 
he  is  above  fear  ;  he  is  sure  that  what  befals  in  the  order  of 
providence  is  well.  The  link  that  binds  causes  and  effects 
together  is  of  pure  shining  gold.  He  is  unhappy  only 
when,  through  some  infirmity  of  passion  or  purpose,  he 
has  been  unfaithful  to  the  j>erfect  order  to  which  he  be- 
longs, and  in  which  he  is  called  to  take  a  rational  part. 
His  hours  of  dejection  are  those  in  which  he  is  conscious 
of  being  out  of  harmony  with  nature;  when  the  harmony 
is  restored  by  activity,  affection,  or  kindness,  it  is  not  in 
the  power  of  mortal  man  to  disturb  his  happy  calm.  His 
sense  of  intimacy  with  the  Supreme  is  unbroken. 

I  know  I  am  describing  something  which  is  far,  very 
far  indeed,  beyond  the  range  of  ordinary  experience ;  but 
I  know  that  the  rational  faith  tends  to  bring  the  experi- 
ence within  reach  of  every  man  and  woman.  There 
are  those  of  my  acquaintance  who  share  it.-    Of  course, 


Y6  THE  JOY  OF  A  FREE  FAITH. 

outside  of  my  acquaintance  there  are  multitudes  who  know 
what  it  is.  As  a  rule,  Radicals  are  joyous  people,  joy- 
ous, not  as  children  are  who  live  in  sensation,  but  as  in- 
telligences are  which  live  in  faith.  Their  joy  is  unalloyed 
by  misgivings  in  regard  to  themselves,  and  by  apprehen- 
sions in  regard  to  their  neighbors.  They  are  optimists  so 
far  as  the  constitution  of  nature  is  concerned.  To  them 
the  world  they  live  in  is  the  best  world  possible.  Said 
Theodore  Parker  in  his  last  sickness  :  "  If  not  hilarious  as 
when  wrell,  I  am  never  sad.  In  all  my  illness,  and  it  is 
now  in  its  third  year,  I  have  not  had  a  single  sad  hour.  I 
have  such  absolute  confidence  in  the  Infinite  Love  which 
creates  and  provides  for  the  world,  and  each  individual  in 
it,  that  I  am  sure  death  is  always  a  blessing,  a  step 
forward  and  upward,  to  the  person  who  dies."  That  word 
is  from  the  heart  of  the  great  prophet  of  free  faith  in 
America. 

When  that  faith  shall  have  had  time  to  mature,  when  it 
shall  have  taken  possession  of  the  popular  mind,  so  as  to 
be  cpiietly  domesticated  there,  when  .it  shall  have  tried  its 
efficacy  in  the  department  of  domestic  nurture,  when  two 
or  three  generations  of  children  shall  have  been  reared  in 
it,  when  it  shall  have  infused  a  soul  into  literature,  written 
songs,  poems,  nursery  rhymes,  hymns  for  church  and 
home,  its  full  power  as  a  ministration  of  joy  will  be  re- 
vealed. Then  a  change  will  take  place  in  all  the  habitual 
feelings  of  men.  New  emotions  will  be  excited  by  the 
incidents  of  life.  Temperaments  will  be  modified  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  mind's  new  attitude  towards  the  encom- 
passing world.  The  ancient  gloom  will  be  dispelled.  The 
creature  will  look  into  the  Creator's  face  with  a  smile. 


V. 

LIVING  FAITH. 

AMONG  the  many  criticisms  that  are  made  on  the 
Radical  Belief,  there  is  one  that  seems  to  give  a 
more  hearty  satisfaction  to  the  critics  than  any  other,  be- 
cause it  touches  the  most  vital  part  of  the  matter.  The 
criticism  is  that  the  faith  is  not  a  living  one.  Intellectual 
it  may  be,  brilliant,  fascinating,  plausible,  but  it  possesses 
no  power  of  communicating  life  either  to  those  that  hold 
it  or  to  those  whom  they  wish  to  convince.  This  is  the 
charge. 

This  defect  is  ascribed  to  various  causes.  Some  say  the 
Radical  Belief  is  but  a  heap  of  denials,  and  no  faith  can 
live  on  denials.  It  has  no  Trinity,  no  Incarnation,  no 
Redeemer,  no  Vicarious  Atonement,  no  Day  of  Judgment, 
no  Perdition,  no  Salvation  for  believers ;  it  has  no  mirac- 
ulous history,  no  heaven-sent  apostles,  no  inspired  book, 
no  infallible  church,  no  immutable  creed,  no  special  reve- 
lations, no  saving  sacraments,  no  priesthood  or  prophecy  ; 
how  then  can  it  be  living  %  What  has  it  to  live  on  ? 
What  has  it  to  live  for  ? 

Others,  who  accept  the  denials  of  the  new  faith,  and 
welcome  them,  to  whom  its  negative  aspect  is  incidental 
to  its  positive,  who  are  in  full  sympathy  with  its  ideas  of 
God,  Christ,  Christianity,  the  world  present  and  the  world 
to  come,  who  see  in  it  the  only  rational  faith,  complain, 
on  their  part,  of  the  same  thing  their  adversaries  exult  in, 
namely :  that  the  faith,  though  it  ought  to  be  a  living  one, 


Y8  LIVING  FAITH. 

is  not.  It  does  not  strike  root,  it  does  not  spread,  its 
"boughs  are  not  laden  with  fruit,  it  is  smitten  with  the 
plague  of  barrenness. 

I.  That  ours  is  not  a  living  faith  is  supposed  to  be 
proved  by  its  apparent  inability  to  form  and  establish 
churches.  Every  other  sect  builds  costly  houses  of  wor- 
ship and  crowds  them  with  people.  Catholicism  goes  on 
erecting  cathedrals ;  Protestantism  multiplies  chapels,  or- 
ganizes religious  associations,  ordains  preachers  and  pas- 
tors. Even  Unitarianism  has  its  edifices  and  its  clergy. 
What  institutions  of  this  sort  can  the  Radicals  show  ? 
Their  organizations  are  soon  disorganized,  their  societies, 
wanting  principles  of  cohesion,  fall  to  pieces  and  dissolve. 
The  perpetuity  of  their  churches,  which  are  not  churches 
in  any  true  sense,  but  congregations,  audiences,  occasional 
assemblages,  depends  on  the  power  of  some  individual 
orator  to  collect  about  him  people  enough  to  afford  him 
support,  and  to  hold  them  by  the  spell  of  his  eloquence  so 
long  as  his  popularity  lasts ;  while  he  lives,  perhaps,  the 
society  flourishes  and  looks  like  an  institution.  But  if  he 
dies,  or  is  taken  sick,  or  loses  his  voice,  or  for  any  reason 
leaves  his  place,  the  association  breaks  up  and  the  building 
passes  into  other  hands.  The  faith  cannot  get  itself 
planted  and  instituted;  so  its  foes  vociferate — so  its  friends 
deplore. 

To  this  proof  of  lifelessness  which  has  so  convincing  a 
look,  the  Radical  serenely  replies  that,  admitting  the  facts 
mentioned,  he  is  not  in  the  least  disturbed  by  them.  He 
does  not  want  churches.  He  does  not  desire  permanent 
organizations,  or  closely  compacted  societies  that  can  live 
on  mechanically,  driven  by  sheer  force  of  momentum,  long 
after  the  impelling  power  is  withdrawn.  These  boasted 
religious  institutions  show  that  faith  was  alive  once,  not 
that  it  is  alive  now.     The  object  of  the  new  faith  is  to 


LIVING  FAITH.  79 

form  associations,  however  temporary  and  limited,  on  the 
ground  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  affinities;  to  make  as 
many  centres  of  fine  influence  as  possible,  each  to  last  till 
its  vitality  is  spent,  and  no  longer.  If  these  centres  did 
not  exist,  if  no  sparkling  points  appeared,  no  magnetic 
attractions,  no  crystallizing  processes,  then  indeed  the 
faith  would  be  lifeless.  But  so  long  as  these  are  extant 
and  visible  to  all  men,  the  faith  is  doing  its  characteristic 
work.  The  fact  that  societies  vanish  is  of  no  significance.  . 
The  significant  fact  is  that  they  again  and  again  reappear. 

II.  But  the  new  faith  has  no  Dogma,  it  is  urged  again, 
and  dogma  is  the  foundation  of  everything.  Dogma  is 
the  intellectual  substance  of  every  faith.  To  define  the 
dogma  and  defend  it,  to  expound  and  propagate  it,  is  the 
business  of  the  church.  This  gives  the  believers  their  ob- 
ject. But*  the  principle  of  the  nationalist  faith  is  not  vital* 
enough  to  build  a  dogma.  It  has,  consequently,  no  or- 
gans devoted  to  the  dissemination  of  its  views ;  no  daily 
paper,  no  weekly  journal,  no  monthly  magazine.  It  has 
attempted  these  things  and  failed.  Its  chief  monthly  pe- 
riodical goes  out  of  existence  after  a  short  and  eventful 
career.  A  predecessor  sustained  a  precarious  position  for 
barely  a  twelvemonth  ;  it  is  a  question  how  long  the  ve- 
hicles now  running  will  continue  to  move.  The  faith 
lacks  intellectual  no  less  than  organizing  faculty.  It  is 
deficient  in  live  mind.  Having  no  system  of  definite 
thoughts,  no  coherent  formulas'  of  doctrine,  it,  of  course, 
possesses  no  electrifying  power. 

To  this  statement,  which  looks  grave,- the  imperturbable 
Radical  quietly  makes  answer  to  this  effect :  that  Dogmat- 
ism being  his  chief  enemy,  he  would  simply  stultify  him- 
self by  trying  to  rally  people  about  a  dogma.  His  business 
is  the  overthrow  of  the  dogmatic  spirit,  the  abolition  of  the 
creed  quality,  the  destruction  of  those  "organs"  of  faith 


80  LIVING  FAITH. 

which  revive  prejudice  and  bigotry.  He  would  give  faith 
a  natural  expression,  and  let  it  find  its  natural  channels. 
If  it  will  not  flow  in  one  avenue  it  will  in  another.  If  it 
collects  in  pools,  lakes,  reservoirs,  well ;  equally  well  if  it 
flows  in  rivulets.  No  "  organ  "  can  voice  it  all,  or  any  of 
it  for  a  long  time,  or  for  a  great  multitude  of  people,  and 
when  one  has  ceased  speaking  acceptably  it  deceases.  That 
our  papers  and  magazines  flourish  briefly  and  disappear,  is 
a  sign  that  the  living  water  of  this  dispensation  finds  flow- 
ing streams  more  congenial  than  standing  pools. 

III.  Let  this  pass,  then.  A  more  fatal  charge  lies 
against  the  new  faith,  and  that  of  a  character  less  easily 
met.  Professing  to  be  progressive  and  humane,  to  pray 
for  a  kingdom  of  God  in  this  world,  to  expect  a  regenerated 
social  condition  instead  of  a  future  heaven,  it  distinguishes 
.itself  by  no  efforts  to  make  real  its  glorious  visions  of  hu- 
manity. It  inaugurates  no  great  movements  of  philan- 
thropy ;  it  institutes  no  original  reform ;  it  sets  on  foot  no 
crusade  against  monstrous  vices,  crimes,  and  iniquities ;  it 
takes  the  lead  in  no  fresh  assaults  against  the  old  foes 
Christianity  has  been  combating  for  centuries.  Where  are 
its  grand  institutions  of  beneficence  ?  Where  are  the  evi- 
dences of  its  interest  in  the  poor,  the  sick,  the  afflicted,  the 
abandoned,  the  disfranchised  ?  Where  are  its  brother- 
hoods of  self-sacrificing  souls  ?  Where  are  its  sisterhoods 
of  mercy?  Where  are  its  hospitals,  its  asylums,  its  houses 
of  refuge,  its  orphans'  homes,  its  retreats  for  the  old,  the 
disabled,  the  helpless?  The  charities  of  Romanism  are 
known  and  esteemed  of  all  men.  Protestant  beneficence 
gives  demonstration  of  power.  The  Radical  does  nothing. 
[Ie  boasts  of  his  humanity,  and  leaves  the  humanities  to 
his  neighbors!  lie  talks  hourly  of  his  interest  in  social 
questions,  and  resigns  to  his  orthodox  friend  the  duty  of 
solving  them.  o 


LIVING  FAITH.  81 

I  will  not  urge  the  usual  considerations  by  which  this 
accusation  is  met.  I  will  not  cite  the  examples  of  eminent 
beneficence  displayed  by  Radicals  ;  the  generosity  of  this 
one  to  the  poor ;  the  munificence  of  that  one  to  the  work- 
ing classes;  the  devotion  of  this  man's  fortune  to  the  cause 
of  popular  education,  of  that  one's  to  the  work  of  aiding 
homeless  women.  All  these  things  are  done  under  the 
inspiration  of  the  old  ideas,  and  have  nothing  characteris- 
tic in  design  or  method.  Nor  will  I  do  more  than  allude 
to  the  circumstance  that  among  the  most  advanced  and 
earnest  leaders  in  every  grand  movement  of  reform, 
whether  social,  financial,  commercial,  political,  or  moral, 
the  believers  in  the  new  faith  will  be  found  toiling  and 
devoting  themselves.  Statements  of  this  kind  do  not  fair- 
ly meet  the  objection.  For  these  grand  movements  in 
humanity — the  agitation  against  war,  for  example,  against 
intemperance,  against  licentiousness,  against  the  gambling- 
hell,  against  cruelty  in  prisons  and  barbarism  in  legis- 
lation— were  initiated  by  men  of  the^old  faith.  The  Radi- 
cals found  them  at  work  and  worked  with  them.  They 
may  have  worked  with  a  different  interest,  under  a  fresh 
motive,  in  an  original  spirit ;  but  the  work  was  old  work, 
and  little  has  been  done  to  impart  to  it  a  new  soul,  or 
supply  to  it  new  facilities. 

Let  the  truth  of  the  charge  be  admitted ;  the  new  faith 
cannot  compete  with  "the  old  in  what  are  commonly  called 
"  benevolent  enterprises."  It  would  not,  probably,  if  it 
were  as  rich  and  capable  as  the  old  faith  is.  Not  because 
the  Radicals  are  stingy,  as  has  been  over  and  over  again 
asserted  ;  but  because  they  cannot  accept  the  principle  on 
which  those  enterprises  are  conducted ,  and  no  other  prin- 
ciple is  yet  in  working  order.  No  original  work  is  as  yet 
possible.  In  the  old-fashioned,  conventional  modes  of 
charity,  the  new  faith  has  no  confidence.     It  perceives  that 

4* 


82  •  LIVING  FAITH. 

they  are  not  rational ;  it  knows  that  they  are  not  scientific; 
it  strongly  suspects  that  they  are  not  reformatory  or  regen- 
erating ;  it  is  more  than  half  persuaded  that  they  bring 
serious  mischiefs  and  even  permanent  evils  in  their  train  ; 
its  very  love  of  humanity  forbids  its  enlisting  itself  enthu- 
siastically with  their  supporters. 

At  any  rate,  this  species  of  humane  labor  is  sufficiently 
well  attended  to.  Both  Catholic  and  Protestant  Christen- 
dom engage  in  it  with  due  emulation.  There  is  no  dearth 
of  the  hospitality  which  takes  from  people  the  responsi- 
bility of  caring  for  their  sick.  There  are  enough  of  orphan 
asylums  which  snatch  children  away  from  the  toils  and 
temptations  incident  to  their  exposed  condition,  to  make 
them  nuns  or  monks,  or  some  other  quite  useless  and  hope- 
less thing.  There"  is  good  supply  of  "  Refuges "  and 
"  Homes,"  that  gather  in  and  sink  into  oblivion  many  a 
man  and  woman  and  child  who  should  be  a  help  to  society 
and  not  a  burden.  Of  alms-giving  there  is  a  thousand 
times  more  than  enough,  and  of  pious  attempts  to  draw 
people  into  the  church  by  holding  before  them  a  soup 
tureen. 

Vast  sums  of  money  are  given  to  such  charities.  Very 
little  of  it,  probably,  is  bestowed  out  of  a  free  heart,  from 
pure  love  of  humanity,  with  the  single  desire  to  improve 
the  social  condition  of  fellow-men,  or  to  diminish  mortal 
suffering.  A  great  deal  of  it,  no  doubt,  is  bestowed  in  the 
hope  of  future  recompense.  The  motto  of  Protestant 
charity  is :  "  He  that  giveth  to  the  poor  lendeth  to  the 
Lord."  The  gift  is  an  investment  on  the  very  best  secu- 
rity. It  is  a  price  paid  for  salvation.  It  secures  a  pas- 
sage to  the  heavenly  courts  and  a  favored  place  there.  The 
Catholic  church  obtained  its  wealth,  in  a  large  measure, 
from  persons  who  wished  to  secure  the  safety  of  their  own 
souls    or   the   souls    of   their  kindred.      The   Protestant 


LIVING  FAITH.  S3 

churches  obtain  the  wealth  they  spend  in  beneficence  by 
appealing  to  the  love  of  souls  and  to  the  hope  of  Heaven. 
How  much  of  the  money  would  be  given  were  this  selfish 
motive  taken  away,  it  would  be  idle  to  conjecture ;  proba- 
bly a  very  small  proportion  of  it.  To  say  that  disinterested 
beneficence  is  rare,  is  to  state  the  case  feebly.  The  benefi- 
cence that  is  satisfied  with  ordinary  dividends,  with  aver- 
age returns,  with  simple  interest,  is  rare.  It  is  the  prom- 
ise of  the  celestial  compound  interest  that  draws  the 
subscriptions  to  the  evangelical  stock.  This  promise  the 
Radical  does  not  consider  himself  favored  with.  What  he 
gives  he  gives  from  moral  conviction  or  personal  feeling, 
from  genuine  interest  or  from  genuine  principle.  It  is 
not  an  investment,  but  a  contribution  ;  not  a  treasure  laid 
up  in  Heaven,  but  a  treasure  distributed  on  Earth. 

The  old  methods  of  charity,  discountenanced  by  reason- 
able men,  discredited  by  practical  men,  denounced  by  sci- 
entific men,  are  wearing  out.  But  new  methods  of  charity 
— reasonable,  scientific,  practical — have  not  yet  been  de- 
vised. When  they  are  devised  we  shall  see  the  new  faith 
taking  hold,  and  the  old  faith  dropping  off.  The  new 
faith  will  exhibit  its  charity  when  it  shall  find  an  object 
that  makes  to  it  commanding  appeal. 

We  are  brought,  then,  at  once  to  the  question :  What 
is  it  that  constitutes  a  Living  Faith?  It  is  not  its  theology, 
its  christology,  its  eschatelogy,  ontology,  or  pneumatology; 
it  is  not  the  cast  of  its  speculative  thought.  The  Trinita- 
rian hypothesis  is  no  more  vital  than  the  Unitarian.  The 
dogma  of  Christ's  divinity  is  no  more  vitalizing  than  the 
doctrine  of  his  humanity.  There  is  no  more  quickening 
power  in  the  idea  of  God's  wrath  than  in  the  idea  of  his 
love.  The  most  imposing  faiths  are  sometimes  the  dead- 
est. The  most  unpretending  are  sometimes  the  most 
alive. 


84  LIVING  FAITH. 

I  could  tell  you  the  name  of  a  man  whose  "  faith  "  is 
so  exceeding  small  that,  with  the  majority  of  Christians, 
he  passes  as  a  man  of  no  faith  whatever.  For  he  not  only 
rejects  Christianity  under  every  existing  form,  and  has 
something  approaching  to  antipathy  toward  its  dogmas  and 
institutions,  its  usages  and  its  officials ;  but  he  will  not 
call  himself  a  believer  in  God  or  in  Immortality.  He  is 
not  so  much  as  a  Deist,  but  is  what  is  commonly  termed 
an  Atheist.  Yet  the  vitality  of  this  man's — I  will  not  say 
spiritual,  I  will  say  liuraan — life  is  wonderful,  far  sur- 
passing the  average  measure  in  those  who  share  every  re- 
ligious help  and  consolation.  Having  acquired  a  compe- 
tency by  his  business,  he,  while  comparatively  a  young 
man,  retired  with  what  he  had,  fearing  Jest  the  absorbing 
nature  of  commercial  pursuits  should  weaken  his  human 
interests,  and  the  passion  to  be  rich  should  make  him  in- 
different to  the  needs  of  his  fellow-men.  The  loss  of  two 
families,  the  first  perishing  by  drowning  before  his  eyes 
while  he  was  looking  for  means  of  rescue,  though  they 
saddened,  impoverished,  and,  for  a  time,  desolated  his  life, 
made  him  neither  morose,  bitter,  nor  desperate.  He  turned 
himself  bravely  toward  his  consolers,  seeking  solace  in  his 
plants  and  flowers,  the  relief  of  friendship,  and  especially 
the  resources  of  kindness.  His  sympathies  were  his  com- 
forters. His  interest  in  humanity  was  his  saviour.  Fond 
of  children,  he  gathered  them  about  him  and  gave  them 
joy.  Two  large  orphan  asylums— one  Romanist  and  one 
Protestant — stand  on  ground  that  he  presented  for  the 
purpose  from  his  own  estate.  His  services  as  a  public- 
s-pi rited  citizen  are  generally  acknowledged.  It  is  due  to 
Iiis  sagacity,  judgment,  and  perseverance  that  a  very  beau- 
tiful cemetery  has  been  laid  out  in  the  city  of  his  resi- 
dence. No  good  charity  ever  appeals  to  him  in  vain.  His 
simple  habits,  unostentatious  demeanor,  gentle  spirit,  liis 


LIVING  FAITH.  85 

truthfulness,  friendliness,  and  entire  unworldliness,  render 
him  at  once  honored  and  beloved. 

Here  is  a  thing  to  be  explained.  The  living  force  in 
this  rare  but  by  no  means  singular  man  was  not  the  infi- 
■delity  or  the  atheism  ;  nor  was  it  any  other  mode  of  think- 
ing about  religion  that  had  taken  the  place  of  these  juice- 
less  negations.  It  was  not  speculative  after  any  sort. 
It  was  the  intimate  connection  he  maintained  with  real 
interests.  He  clung  to  things  ;  he  stuck  to  plain  facts  ; 
he  did  not  wander  away  from  palpable  concerns.  He  had 
practical  purposes  which  he  lived  for ;  and,  living  for  them, 
he  lived  all  over. 

This  is  the  secret  of  all  vitality.  A  Greek  fable  tells  of 
the  giant  Anteeus,  who  challenged  and  vanquished  all 
comers  till  Hercules  came.  Hercules  discovered  after  some 
wrestling  that  Antseus  derived  all  his  strength  from  the 
ground.  Whenever  his  feet  were  lifted  from  the  soil,  his 
vigor  seemed  to  desert  him  ;  but  the  least  touch  of  his 
foot  to  the  earth  imparted  to  him  new  life.  On  making 
this  discovery,  the  hero,  witli  a  vast  eifort,  heaved  his  an- 
tagonist up,  and  strangled  him  in  a  terrible  embrace  while 
held  in  the  air. 

So  faith  lives  by  contact  with  the  ground.  The  living 
faiths  of  the  earth  have  owed,  perhaps,  the  best  portion 
of  their  power  to  an  immediate,  practical  purpose  that 
roused  and  directed  their  zeal. 

What  faith  has  shown  more  living  energy  than  the  faith 
of  the  Israelites  ?  Persecution  has  not  killed  it.  Scorn 
has  not  discouraged  it.  Exile  and  dispersion  _  have  not 
scattered  or  decomposed  it.  It  is. flourishing  nobly  to-day. 
It  builds  its  temples  in  the  Xew  World  as  majestic  and 
gorgeous  as  those  erected  by  the  wealthiest  Christian  sect. 
It  gathers  its  children,  observes  its  customs,  institutes  its 
charities,  cares  for  its  poor,  prints  its  iournals,  enunciates 


86  LIVING  FAITH. 

its  Law,  with  a  spirit  as  lofty  and  a  heart  as  tender  as  ever- 
If  we  ask  to  what  this  extraordinary  vitality  is  owing,  the 
answer  is  :  Not  to  its  doctrine  of  One  God,  but  to  an  in- 
domitable purpose,  ruling  and  decisive  in  its  early  history, 
active  in  every  episode  of  its  career,  sovereign  now  in  its* 
most  zealous  children,  to  secure  and  maintain  the  position 
of  a  peculiar  people,  called  to  a  high  destiny,  and  to  that 
destiny  set  apart.  To  preserve  and  justify  their  title  to 
the  spiritual  command ;  to  keep  the  race  pure  from  out- 
ward admixture  of  blood,  and  from  inward  apostacy ;  to 
fulfil  the  national  conditions  on  which  the**divine  favor 
was  pledged,  constitutes  the  deliberate  aim  and  determina- 
tion of  the  Jewish  people.  Should  this  aim  be  lost  sight 
of,  this  determination  be  relaxed,  that  moment  would  pro- 
bably mark  the  period  of  the  faith's  decline.  Its  sinews 
would  be  cut ;  its  power  of  movement  would  be  paralyzed. 
There  is  nothing  in  its  ideas  that  will  save  it.  They  will 
be  lost  in  the  ocean  of  modern  thought. 

The  Mohammedan  Faith  was  a  living  faith  so  long  as 
the  national  spirit  animated  the  Arab  races  with  an  ambi- 
tion to  plant  their  civilization  in  Europe.  The  sudden 
outbreak  of  Moslem  life  was  prodigious.  It  was  a  nation's 
soul  aflame.  The  religious  beliefs  were  simple  and  bar- 
ren in  the  extreme.  They  had  not  inspiration  enough  in 
them  to  stir  a  tribe  from  lethargy.  It  was  the  determina- 
tion of  the  people  to  make  themselves  felt  in  history  that 
made  Mohammed's  name  a  name  of  terror,  and  set  the 
crescent  above  the  cross. 

The  Church  of  Rome  has,  and  always  has  had  in  its 
days  of  power,  a  purpose,  which  is  simply  its  own  aggran- 
disement, the  establishment  of  its  rule  and  authority,  the 
merging  of  other  churches  in  itself,  the  gathering  of  all 
Christians  into  its  communion.  To  accomplish  this  pur- 
pose was  the  ambition  of  the  great  popes ;  to  aid  in  it  the 


LIVING  FAITH.  87 

terrible  Order  of  Jesus  was  instituted;  to  this  end  the 
preaching  orders  were  commissioned  ;  the  Holy  Inquisi- 
tion exerted  its  pious  offices  toward  this  result.  This  is 
what  Pius  IX.  is  praying,  protesting,  calling  councils,  and 
publishing  bulls  for.  The  revival  of  this  purpose  will  ex- 
plain the  revival  of  energy  in  the  old  medieval  religion. 
The  church  aims  at  dominion.  It  represents  a  policy,  not 
a  faith ;  it  means  statecraft,  not  religion ;  its  priests  are 
politicians.  The  absorption  in  temporal  concerns  keeps 
the  spiritual  enthusiasm  burning. 

Protestantism  has  likewise  an  immediate  object,  which 
it  never  loses  sight  of.  Its  endeavor  is  to  bring  souls  to 
Christ/  a  perfectly  definite,  tangible,  practical  thing  to 
do;  a  thing  that  excites  ambition,  rouses  enthusiasm,  en- 
lists determination,  in  truth,  calls  for  all  these  qualities  in 
extraordinary  measure.  The  missionary  societies  labor  in 
this  interest ;  the  bible  and  tract  societies  hold  this  end  in 
view ;  the  charitable  societies  derive  inspiration  from  this 
purpose.  Their  " faith"  does  not  animate  their  effort:  it 
is  their  effort  that  animates  their  faith. 

The  Society  of  Friends  has  exhibited  great  vitality.  If 
we  inquire  into  its  causes,  we  shall  find  them,  I  think,  not 
in  the  beautiful  doctrine  of  the  "  Inner  Light,"  but  in  the 
stubborn  resistance  to  the  spirit  of  worldliness  in  its  con- 
spicuous forms.  It  was  their  battle  with  formalism,  with 
the  fashions  of  church  and  state,  with  ceremony,  hollow- 
ness,  and  pretence,  that  called  out  the  steadfast  courage  of 
those  hearts.  "Would  you  find  the  secret  of  their  power — 
read  their  rules  of  discipline,  laid  down  as  carefully  as  any 
military  code,  and  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  society  ob- 
served as  conscientiously  as  if  they  were  soldiers  in 
presence  of  an  enemy.  While  the  discipline  was  maintained 
the  sect  flourished.  But  when  idleness,  frivolity,  and  fash- 
ion   came   in,  and  the  world  spirit  made  its  power  felt 


88  LIVING  FAITH. 

among  its  old  assailants,  the  faith  began  to  decline.     It 
can  scarcely  be  called  a  living  faith  now. 

If  now  we  instance  some  Faith  which,  notwithstanding 
its  pretensions  to  high  spiritual  ideas,  has  never  fairly  suc- 
ceeded in  earning  the  title  of  a  living  faith — the  Socinian 
or  old-fashioned  Unitarian — it  will  appear  that  its  defect 
consists  in  the  absence  of  any  such  purpose  as  I  have  de- 
scribed. It  has  no  practical  justification  for  itself.  It  is 
not  working  in  the  interest  of  a  powerful  organization 
like  the  Church  of  Rome.  It  is  not  toiling  in  the  en- 
deavor to  bring  souls  to  Christ,  like  the  "  evangelical "  Pro- 
testants. It  offers  no  battle  to  worldliness ;  flings  down 
no  challenge  to  music,  art,  literature,  the  drama ;  engages 
in  no  deadly  conflict  with  formalism,  ritualism,  or  ceremon- 
ialism ;  has,  in  fact,  no  well-defined  foe.  It  does  not  toil 
to  save  men  from  hell,  for  it  believes  in  no  hell  of  flame 
and  everlasting  torment ;  it  does,  not  toil  to  get  men  into 
heaven,  for  it  believes  in  no  such  heaven  as  men  can  be 
"got  into."  The  salvation  of  souls  is  hardly  its  object, 
for  it  does  not  put  the  issue  between  salvation  and  damna- 
tion with  sufficient  sharpness  to  engage  the  consecration 
of  the  will.  The  social  improvement  and  elevation  of 
men  is  not  its  object,  for  it  has  no  working  philosophy  of 
social  life.  There  are  ideas  enough  in  it ;  but  it  lives  in 
ideas,  and  like  the  giant  Antreus  languishes  there.  ]S"o 
fine  theological  shadings,  no  ingenious  biblical  interpreta- 
tions furnish  the  requisites  for  contact  with  a  world  of  re- 
alities. Not  possessing  any  ruling  impulse  to  do  some- 
thing, it  is  not  happy  in  the  consciousness  of  being  some 
thing. 

The  living  faith  is  the  faith  with  a  living  purpose.  What 
then  is  our  living  purpose  ?  What  are  we  aiming  at  ?  Let 
us  apply  the  rule  to  the  new  faith.  For,  bright,  intellectu- 
al, spirited,  and  spiritual  as  this  seems  to  be,  it  must  con- 


LIVING  FAITH.  89 

form  to  the  conditions,  or  decline.  It  cannot  live  on  air. 
Like  all  the  rest  it  must  feel  called  to  a  certain  work,  and 
the  imperative  necessity  of  doing  that  work  must  be  forced 
upon  it,  or  the  anticipations  of  those  who  build  on  it  will 
be  disappointed. 

To  me,-  the  Radical  faith  has  such  a  purpose,  and  on  ac- 
count of  it  owes  all  the  interest  it  possesses  for  me.  The 
purpose  is  both  negative  in  aspect  and  positive. 

On  its  negative  side,  the  new  faith  proposes  to  itself  the 
sacred  duty  of  making  war  against  the  great  spiritual 
powers  of  Dogmatism  and  Superstition  ;  regarding  these 
powers  by  whomsoever  wielded,  in  whatever  guise  arrayed, 
as  being  the  foes  of  all  pure  religion.  These  powers,  I  say 
— for  such  they  are— powers  instituted,  organized,  ex- 
pressed in  rite,  symbol,  creed,  domiciled  in  churches,  and 
represented  by  actual  bodies  of  men.  They  present  a  de- 
finite object  of  attack,  an  object  as  definite  as  ever  pre- 
sented itself  to  an  assaulting  column.  The  Hebrew  faith 
never  proposed  a  more  distinct  end  to  its  prophets,  priests, 
and  zealots.  The  Mohammedan  faith  had  no  more  palpa- 
ble intent  when  it  entered  on  its  determined  struggle 
with  idolatry.  The  Catholic  faith  moved  toward  no  more 
clearly  outlined  end.  The  Protestant  faith  had  in  view 
no  more  tangible  object.  An  assault  on  Dogmatism  and 
Superstition  is  no  more  visionary  or  vague  than  an  assault 
on  the  foul  religions  of  the  Canaanites,  or  the  idolatries 
of  Islam,  the  heresies  of  the  middle  age,  or  the  infideli- 
ties of  more  modern  times. 

The  abolitionist,  when  he  struck  at  slavery,  had  no  more 
declared  a  foe ;  the  temperance  men,  in  their  wrestle  with 
the  demon  of  the  still,  do  not  confront  a  more  distinctly 
avowed  or  defiant  adversary.  The  people  who  rally  to 
throw  off  the  burdens  that  oppress  the  civil  and  social  state 
of  women,  are  not  conscious  of  being  pitted  against  a  more  • 


90  LIVING  FAITH. 

consolidated  antagonist.  Onr  enemy  is  at  our  doors;  lie  is 
noisy  and  violent ;  the  mischief  he  does  is  evident  to  the 
dullest  perception ;  his  baleful  influence  is  visible  every- 
where. We  would  keep  no  terms  with  him,  we  would 
pursue  him  to  his  fastnesses,  feeling  that,  in  doing  so,  we 
are  contending  for  the  gravest  interests  of  mankind. 

This  is  the  new  faith's  negative  work — its  work  of 
destruction  ;  work  arduous  and  long,  but  extremely  need- 
ful, demanding  effort,  patience,  faith,  courage,  sacrifice — 
but  rewarding  all  these  with  the  conviction  that  the  work 
is  done  for  humanit}',  and  will  endure  when  the  strife  shall- 
be  ended.  Nothing  less  than  a  new  crusade  is  called  for. 
If  the  Radical  faith  will  undertake  it,  it  will  have  a  name 
and  a  virtue  to  live ;  if  it  declines  to  undertake  it,  no  bril- 
liancy of  intellect  or  glow  of  anticipation  will  rescue  it 
from  death. 

j  The  positive  aim  of  the  new  faith  is  the  creation  and 
consecration  of  Character.  This,  too,  is  a  definite,  and,  it 
may  be  said,  an  original  purpose.  For,  although  the  old 
faith  respects  character,  calls  for  it  as  the  result  of  relig- 
ious training  and  the  expression  of  spiritual  experience,  it 
has  made.it  an  incidental  rather  than  a  primary  thing,  an 
evidence  of  the  religious  life,  not  the  sum  and  substame 
of  it.  It  has  given  to  character  an  artificial  cast,  a  theo- 
logical tone,  an  unnatural  twist  that  answered  to  the  pecu- 
liar kind  of  training  the  church  imposed.  The  old  faitli 
encouraged  and  cultivated  a  single  type  of  character,  with 
some  degree,  not  an.  eminent  degree,  of  success.  But  in 
character  as  a  natural,  vital  development  of  the  man,  in 
plain  human  character,  based  on  scientific  grounds,  avail- 
able for  every  day  uses,  good  for  ordinary  life,  it  had  no 
engrossing  interest.  It  studied  neither  its  elements,  its 
laws,  nor  its  operations.  It  was  more-  concerned  with 
"graces"  than  with  virtues.     And  it  prized  the  "graces" 


LIVING  FAITH.  91 

for  their  talismanic  potency  in  opening  the  gates  of 
heaven  to  believers,  rather  than  for  their  wholesome 
quality  in  sweetening  society. 

The  new  faith  concerns  itself  with  the  cultivation  of 
simple  human  goodness  as  an  end  sufficient  in  and  of  itself. 
Without  reference  to  beliefs  or  sacraments,  without  refer- 
ence to  the  rewards  of  heaven  or  the  punishments  of 
hell,  without  any  particular  feeling  that  goodness  is  a 
thing  well  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God,  or  possesses  any 
character  of  merit,  the  new  faith  emphasizes  character  in 
opposition  to  custom  or  credence,  and  whatever  else  raises 
a  false  issue  with  it;  it  not  only  puts  character  before 
everything  else,  it  makes  it  a  substitute  for  everything  else, 
the  one  indispensable  element  in  experience.  And  to  this 
end  it  regards  character  not  as  the  product  of  ecclesiastical 
discipline  or  theological  education,  not  as  a  result  of 
"  Christian  "  or  other  religious  tradition  and  training,  but 
as  the  consummation  of  obedience  to  the  plain  facts  of  per- 
sonal and  social  life. 

Here,  too,  we  have  a  definite  end  of  attainment.  As  the 
Roman  Church  labors  to  bring  men  to  Peter,  as  the  Protes- 
tant churches  toil  to  bring  men  to  Christ,  we  endeavor  to 
-  brimr  men  to  themselves.  As  Eomanism  aims  at  making 
men  submissive,  as  Protestantism  aims  at  making  men 
believing,  so  we  aim  at  making  men  self-respecting  and. 
true.  The  Catholic  system  would  break  men  down  ;  the 
Protestant  system  would  convert  them;  we -would  teach 
them  the  laws  of  rational  development.  It  is  a  work 
greatly  needing  to  be  clone,  and  requiring  the  intelligent 
effort  of  many  people  who  are  united  by  a  common  aim 
and  enthusiasm.  A  religious  body  that  will  plant  itself  - 
on  this  rock,  that  will  make  character  the  solitary  condition 
of  fellowship,  the  sole  test  of  worth,  the  single  pledge  of 
usefulness,  and  will  make  character  consist  of  the  simplest 


92  LIVING  FAITH. 

human  elements,  truthfulness,  for  instance,  fairness,  hon- 
esty, fidelity  to  things  in  hand,  not  in  high-flying  "  graces,'' 
or  "  evangelical "  gifts  or  super-eminent  attributes,  but  in 
the  qualities  that  meet  the  exigencies  of  daily  living — a 
religious  body  that  will  do  this  steadfastly  will  help  to 
effect  a  practical  revolution  in  religion.  It  will  inaugurate 
a  new  Protestantism.  It  will  precipitate  a  new  departure 
from  the  ancient  folds. 

That  there  exists  any  religious  body  that  sees  the  neces- 
sity of  this  mission  and  accepts  it,  that  comprehends  it  and 
works  in  it,  I  do  not  affirm.  I  do  not  declare  this  to  be 
the  actual  endeavor,  the  deliberate,  determined  endeavor  of 
the  rational  faith.  But  something  like  this  should  be 
its  endeavor.  If  the  new  faith  lives,  it  will  be  through  its 
fidelity  to  this  charge.  The  professors  of  it  are,  as  yet,  too 
much  under  the  influence  of  their  old-time  associations ; 
too  much  implicated  in  the  modes  of  thinking  and  feeling 
that  prevail  around  them  ;  too  much  in  thraldom  to  the 
powers  that  so  long  ruled  their  minds,  to  be  fully  awake  to 
the  demands  made  on  their  earnestness.  Possibly  another 
generation  of  men  and  women,  with  clearer  eyes  for  actual 
issues,  and  braver  hearts  for  radical  toil,  may  have  to  come 
up  and  take  charge  of  the  great  cause  of  protest  against 
superstition,  and  of  championship  in  favor  of  character.  If 
the  living  Radical  believers  are  too  idle,  too  faint-hearted 
or  too  short-sighted  to  do  it,  others  will  appear  in  the  future 
who  have  no  such  disabilities.  The  motto  of  these  will 
be,  and  the  motto  will  have  kindling  power  over  the  mul- 
titude: 

"Down  with  Superstition;  up  with  Character." 


VI. 
THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY. 

ly/TY  theme  is  the  gospel  of  to-day — the  gospel  de- 
-L'~L  inaiided  by  to-day,  suited  to  to-day's  needs,  ad- 
dressed to  to-day's  intelligence.  The  eternal  gospel  has 
its  phases,  being  variously  apprehended  by  the  successive 
generations  of  mankind.  Truth  is  one  and  the  same ;  its 
interpretations  are  many.  An  early  Christian  writer 
speaks  of  Jesus  Christ  as  being  "  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day  and  forever;"  and  so  doubtless  he  is  in  his  own 
spiritual  essence.  But  the  Jesus  Christ  of  the  Christian 
creeds  shifts  his  position  from  one  end  of  creation  to  the 
other.  He  occupies  every  place  between  simple  humanity 
and  the  Supreme  Being.  He  is  mortal  man,  spiritual 
man,  ideal  man,  angel,  archangel,  emanation  from  Deity, 
Deity  itself;  being  according  to  one  apprehension  meaner 
than  the  meanest,  according  to  another,  higher  than  the 
highest.  Even  the  Eternal  God  reveals  himself  in  time, 
each  eye  beholding  as  much  of  his  face  as  it  can. 

]STo  gospel  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever,  for 
yesterday  and  to-day  are  not  the  same.  Every  day  has  its 
peculiar  need  which  former  days  cannot  supply  or  antici- 
pate. To  be  sure,  there  are  constant  needs,  such  as  food, 
clothing,  shelter,  and  for  these  the  provisions  are  constant. 
Other  needs  are  occasional,  incidental,  and  though  deep, 
not  perpetual.  Human  nature  has  its  moods  and  special 
exigencies,  which  must  be  met  as  they  arise — the  mood  of 
gladness  or  of  sadness,  of  penitence  or  of  aspiration,  of  hu- 


94  THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY. 

miliation  or  of  self-confidence,  of  depression  or  of  joy  ;  and 
the  gospel  that  addresses  itself  to  the  mood  is  the  gospel 
for  the  day. 

The  word  "gospel"  means  good  news.  But  what  is 
good  news  to  one  man  or  one  age  is  not  necessarily  good 
news  to  another;  it  may  be  bad  news,  or  indifferent  news, 
or  no  news  at  all.  Jesus  brought  to  his  countrymen  the 
message  that  their  Messiah  had  come  to  fulfill  the  promise 
made  to  their  ancestors  through  the  prophets,  that  the 
Messiah's  kingdom  should  be  established  on  the  earth,  and 
their  dream  of  social  felicity  be  realized.  It  was  blessed 
tidings  to  the  Jews,  pining  in  bondage  and  sick  with  hope 
deferred.  But  it  was  not  a  message  that  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  and  Asiatics  cared  to  hear;  it  was  announcement 
of  no  future  for  them. 

Paul  brought  great  news,  namely,  that  the  Christ  was 
soon  to  come,  in  clouds  of  glory,  to  judge  the  world  and 
save  his  own.  The  Christian  world  was  on  tip-toe  of  ex- 
pectation ;  trembling,  hoping  for  the. time  of  its  transfig- 
uration ;  listening  for  the  trumpets ;  watching  for  the 
angels  who  should  deliver  the  faithful  from  the  rule  of  the 
oppressor  and  the  misery  of  a  world  that  seemed  on  the 
brink  of  destruction.  But  is  this  good  news  to  us  ?  Was 
it  good  news  to  the  people  of  the  next  century  'I  Do  we 
look  for  the  second  coming  of  Christ  ?  Do  we  desire  the 
end  of  the  world  ?  Would  it  be  a  pleasant  thought  to  any 
considerable  number  of  people  now,  that  they  were  liable 
at  any  moment  to  put  on  spiritual  bodies  and  float  away 
in  the  air? 

Luther's  gospel  was  good  news  to  the  hungering  souls 
of  his  generation  ;  a  veritable  "gospel  of  the  day."  They 
wanted  to  hear  that  their  salvation  did  not  depend  on  the 
Church  of  Rome,  the  absolution  of  the  priest,  the  grace 
of  the  mass,  penance  on  the  knees  or  with  the  whip,  pay- 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY.  95 

ment  of  Peter's  pence,  daily  paternoster  and  periodical 
confession.  To  hear  that  they  might  be  saved  by  faitli 
alone  in  the  personal  Saviour,  and  the  interior  change  of 
the  heart  under  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  was  some- 
thing that  made  their  souls  leap  for  joy.  It  was  a  procla- 
mation of  spiritual  freedom,  restoring  to  them  their  man- 
hood. But  the  announcement  produces  no  thrill  of  ecstasy 
now.  The  Church  of  Rome  is  nothing  to  us  ;  we  have 
never  been  in  bondage  to  it,  and  never  expect  to  be. 
We  have  been  spiritual  freemen,  we  and  our  forefathers 
for  generations.  The  gospel  of  Luther  is  an  old  and 
almost  forgotten  story ;  the  dust  of  ages  stops  the  ears 
that  hailed  it. 

The  great  teacher  gives  voice  to  his  time,  not  to  all  time. 
His  doctrine  is  not  his  own,  but  the  persuasion  or  the 
prophecy  of  his  epoch.  The  Father  who  sends  him  is  the 
spirit  of  his  age,  which  imparts  to  him  its  need  and  its 
hope.  I  do  not  perceive  that  Jesus  brought  a  new  reve- 
lation, in  the  usual  sense  of  the  word,  or,  on  his  own 
authority,  announced  any  unknown  truth.  As  he  heard, 
he  spoke,  and  what  he  heard  was  the  voice  from  the  heart 
of  his  people.  We  find  all  his  thoughts  in  the  religious 
books  of  his  nation  ;  sometimes  expressed  in  the  very 
same  language  he  himself  used,  sometimes  in  phrases  as 
expressive,  though  less  felicitous  than  his  own.  His  doc- 
trine, that  God  is  creator,  preserver,  guide,  comforter, 
immediate  presence  and  providence,  pitying  father,  is 
enunciated  in  most  touching  forms  of  speech  many  times, 
over;  it  is  the  burden  of  prophecy  and  psalm.  His  doc- 
trine, that  the  essence  of  religion  was  love  to  God  and 
man,  was  as  ancient  as  the  literature  of  his  race.  That 
God  loved  mercy  more  than  sacrifice,  that  spiritual  worth 
made  one  greater  than  the  temple  and  superior  to  the  Sab- 
bath, that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  was   within  and  not 


96  TEE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY. 

without,  a  moral,  not  a  political  state,  were  among  the 
first  principles  of  the  wisdom  he  learned  as  a  child.  The 
"  Golden  Eule  "  was  laid  down  explicitly  by  the  earliest 
and  latest  masters  in  Hebrew  ethics.  The  substance  of,  the 
"  Sermon  on  the  Mount "  may  be  picked  up  in  different 
places  all  along  the  road  of  the  national  progress.  The 
"  Beatitudes,"  less  exquisitely  phrased  than  by  his  poetic 
lips,  gem  the  pages  of  sacred  song  and  grace  the  sentences 
of  proverbial  wisdom.  Even  the  "  Lord's  Prayer "  is 
made  up  of  invocations  and  petitions  that  were  familiar  to 
the  piety  of  his  nation. 

Jesus  voiced  the  purer  and  deeper  consciousness  of  his 
race,  feeling  himself  surrounded  by  the  spirits  of  the  past ; 
in  his  moments  of  ecstasy,  holding  spiritual  communion 
with  Moses  and  Elias.  His  "  But  I  say  unto  you,"  was 
not  the  claim  of  a  peculiar  authority,  distinct  from  that  of 
other  teachers,  and  above  them,  for  he  said  that  he  came 
not  to  destroy  the  law  and  the  nrophets,  but  to  fulfill  them. 
It  was  rather  the  emphatic  declaration  of  the  superiority 
of  the  spirit  to  the  letter,  the  claim  and  right  of  the  soul  of 
the  faitli  to  set  aside  the  traditions,  forms,  and  formularies 
of  it.  It  was  not  himself  he  preached,  but  that  which 
came  to  him  and  poured  through  him. 

Paul  seemed  to  be  an  original  teacher,  with  a  gospel  all 
his  own  ;  a  distinct  and  peculiar  message,  that  had  never 
been  delivered  before.  But  he  took  particular  pains  to 
say  that  nothing  of  the  kind  was  true.  The  Hebrew  scrip- 
tures, he  said,  rightly  interpreted,  contained  all  he  had  to 
communicate;  not  in  precise  words,  perhaps,  but  in  sym- 
bol and  allegory.  The  first  thing  Paul  did,  in  addressing 
a  Jewish  audience,  was  to  convince  them  by  ingenious 
exposition  of  scripture,  that  his  message  had  been  fore- 
shadowed in  the  beginning,  and  ought  to  be  received  as 
timely,  the  appointed  word  of  the  hour. 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY.  97 

"We  think  of  Luther  as  standing  up  and  delivering  a 
new  doctrine  on  new  authority.  But  he  did  no  such  thing. 
His  doctrine  was  as  old,  at  least,  as  the  New  Testament, 
where  it  had  slumbered  for  a  thousand  years,  and  whence 
he  derived  it.  He  spoke  out  of  the  heart  of  the  Christian 
theology  as  well  as  out  of  his  own  heart,  feeling  that  his 
own  spiritual  experience  brought  him  in  closest  sympathy 
with  those  who  most  deeply  believed  and  most  fervently 
prayed. 

Channing,  though  pushed  out  of  the  churches  and 
forced  into  a  position  of  isolation  and  antagonism,  preach- 
ing what  appeared  to  be  a  new  gospel,  never  claimed 
the  character  of  a  solitary  prophet.  He  appealed  to 
the  New  Testament,  believed  that  he  had  the  sympathy 
of  the  purest  souls  in  Christendom,  and  felt  that  Jesus 
stood  by  his  side.  The  Father  that  sent  him  was  the 
human  nature  in  whose  capacity  and  dignity  he  put  his 
trust.  He  was  sure  that  natural  goodness,  affection,  truth, 
and  justice  were  on  his  side,  and  in  that  company  he  could 
not  feel  alone. 

Theodore  Parker,  that  monumental  man  who  stood  like 
a  solitary  oak-tree  in  the  middle  of  a  plain — the  indepen- 
dent soul,  strong  of  thought  and  strong  of  speech,  stand- 
ing up  against  Bible,  church,  and  creed,  casting  off  his 
ecclesiastical  and  doctrinal  leanings,  throwing  down  the 
props  of  ceremonial,  and  stepping  forth  into  the  open  air 
of  thought — nevertheless  spake  not  as  of  himself,  set  up 
to  be  no  originator  or  discoverer,  but  pointed  to  a  Father 
who  had  sent  him.  This  Father  spoke  to  him  in  many 
voices  of  teacher,  philosopher,  sage,  and  saint,  bearing 
witness  to  the  essential  needs  and  the  living  hopes  of 
humanity.  Most  clearly  and  emphatically  he  addressed 
him  in  the  profound  convictions  which  he  claimed  were 
native  to  the  universal  heart,  and  which  gave  immediate 

5 


98  THE  GOSPEL   OF  TO-DAY. 

demonstration  of  God,  immortality,  and  the  moral  law. 
2^"one  was  ever  simpler,  humbler,  more  docile  than  this 
sturdy  man  as  he  waited  on  the  bidding  of  the  Lord. 

!No  teacher  stands  outside,  independent  of  all  constitu- 
ency. The  most  radical  teacher  has  the  largest  constitu- 
ency, draws  from  the  deepest  well,  catches  the  purest 
breath  in  his  sail.  Mr.  Abbot  is  conscious  of  walking  in  a 
large  company,  and  feels  his  inadequacy  to  discharge  the 
message  entrusted  to  him  as  keenly  as  ever  did  an  Augus- 
tine or  a  Paul. 

The  preacher  of  to-day  has  a  gospel  of  to-day. 

"What  now  is  this  gospel  ?  First,  let  us  ask,  "What  was 
the  gospel  it  hopes  to  supplant  ?  What  was  the  gospel  of 
yesterday  and  the  day  before  ? 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  proclaimed  the  glad  tidings  of 
deliverance  from  sin.  It  addressed  man  as  a  sinner,  need- 
ing supernatural  aid  and  rescue.  The  alleged  fact  of  sin 
was  the  sole  occasion  of  the  message.  To  appreciate  the 
message  you  must  appreciate  the  occasion — deliverance 
from  sin.  Xot  from  ignorance,  error,  mistake,  stupidity, 
prejudice,  immaturity,  inexperience,  inherited  or  acquired* 
disability,  the  effects  of  an  untaught  or  undisciplined 
mind;  but  from  an  "inward  deep  disease;"  a  subtle, 
malign,  inwrought,  organic  power ;  a  law  of  corruption 
and  demoralization  ;  a  taint  in  the  blood  ;  a  traditional 
malady;  an  inherited  curse,  which  was  incurable  except 
by  divine  and  special  aid. 

To  this  little  word  Paul  gave  the  deadly  significance  it 
has  borne  ever  since.  Jesus-  rarely  used  it,  and  never  in 
its  present  theological  meaning.  It  occurs  but  once  in 
Matthew.  It  occurs  in  John  but  seven  times,  and  only 
once  in  a  deeper  than  the  usual  sense  of  wrong-doing.  In 
the  single  epistle  to  the  Romans  it  recurs  more  than  thirty 
times,  and  always  loaded  with  the  most  terrible  signifi- 


THE  GOSPEL   OF  TO  DA  Y.  99 

cance.  It  was  the  key-note  of  Paul's  theology,  the  soul 
of  his  religion.  "  The  bondage  of  sin,"  "  the  law  of  sin," 
"  the  dominion  of  sin,"  are  phrases  often  repeated  in  his 
letters.  He  exhausts  his  remarkable  powers  of  language 
in  describing  its  irresistible  and  fatal  sway.  He  ascribes 
to  it  physical  death,  moral  disorder,  mental  decrepitude, 
and  spiritual  imbecility.  Starting  with  Adam,  it  had  gone 
on  gaining  power  from  ages ;  plunging  the  races  of  men 
into  the  pit  from  which  they  could  not  rise.  It  had  ac- 
quired the  force  of  an  elemental  law,  which  took  every- 
thing under  its  sway,  and  drove  all  the  human  family  be- 
fore it  as  the  breath  of  the  thunder-storm  drives  before  it 
the  loose  straw  of  the  pavement.  The  risen  Christ,  risen 
because  sinless,  broke  the  charm,  and  opened  the  way  by 
which,  through  faith  in  him,  the  rescued  believers  might 
escape  from  the  doom. 

In  the  middle  ages,  the  central  thought  of  theology  was 
the  thought  of  sin.  The'  Church  of  Rome  was  an  organi- 
zation for  the  deliverance  of  mankind  from  sin  and  its 
consequences.  For,  this  the  hierarchy  was  instituted  ;  for 
this  the  priest  was  consecrated,  the  altar  built,  the  mass 
celebrated,  the  sacrament  administered,  the  rule  and  ordi- 
nance prescribed.  Baptism  washed  out  inherited  sin  ;  con- 
firmation imparted  strength  to  overcome  actual  sin  ;  com- 
munion kept  the  soul  in  concurrence  with  the  source  of 
power ;  penance  chastised  sinful  desire ;  absolution  re- 
leased from  the  penalties  of  sin  committed ;  extreme  unc- 
tion imparted  consolation  and  promise  of  blessedness  to 
the  dying.  At  every  turn  the  sinner  was  met  by  the  de- 
liverer. Take  the  idea  of  sin  away,  and  you  deprive  the 
church  of  the  whole  ground  of  its  existence  ;  you  abolish 
it,  or  reduce  it  to  a  shade  that  ought  to  be  exorcised. 

Protestantism  made  more  poignant  and  intense  the  con- 
viction of  sin,  by  making  it  more  personal.     Luther  and 


100  THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY. 

Calvin  dwelt  perpetually  on  the  private  experience  of  sin, 
pressing  the  matter  home  to  the  individual  consciousness  ; 
driving  it  in,  so  to  speak,  with  all  their  prodigious  power 
of  statement,  argument  and  exhortation.  What  were  the 
Lutheran  or  the  Calvinistic  theology,  with  the  total  de- 
pravity, the  vicarious  sacrifice,  the  atonement,  the  Saviour, 
intercessor  and  mediator,  justification,  sanctification,  final 
rescue  and  salvation,  if  this  idea  of  sin  were  taken  away  ? 
Evangelical  Christianity,  as  it  is  called,  owes  all  its  vitality 
to  that  idea  ;  would  be  utterly  barren  and  meaningless  with- 
out it ;  would,  in  fact,  be  sheer  nonsense  without  it. 

The  liberal  sects  of  Protestantism,  Unitarians  and  Uni- 
versalists,  use  the  word  with  such  effect  as  they  may  in 
sermon  and  prayer ;  fill  it  out  with  meaning  as  well  as 
they  can  ;  keep  it  sounding,  at  all  events,  whether  emptily 
or  not,  well  knowing  that  if  they  drop  it  from  their  theo- 
logical vocabulary  there  will  be  an  end  of  their  system. 
If  they  cannot  say  "  sin,"  they  cannot  say  "  Christ;"  and 
if  they  cannot  say  "  Christ,"  they  must  hold  their  peace. 
The  doctrine  of  sin  is  indispensable  to  them,  for  the  only 
good  news  they  have  to  bring  is  that  a  way  of  escape  from 
sin  is  provided. 

It  is  a  common  persuasion  that  the  consciousness  of  sin 
is  a  deep-seated,  and  indestructible  fact  in  human  nature,  a 
fact  that  we  cannot  get  away  from,  the  existence  of  which 
is  inexplicable,  except  on  the  ground  that  men  are  sinners 
and  need  salvation.  But  this  is  the  precise  point  that  I 
call  in  question.  It  is  not  difficult  to  account  for  the  so- 
called  "  sense  of  sin,"  or  for  the  belief  that  men  are  sinful 
creatures.  Human  experience  was  not  the  mother  of  it, 
as  much  as  human  speculation  and  sentiment.  The  specu- 
lation began  in  the  East  with  contemplative  men,  who 
strove  after  states  of  mind  with  which  the  necessities  of 
common   life   interfered.     In   their   efforts   to  disengage 


TEE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-BAY.  101 

themselves  from  the  "  bondage  of  the  flesh,"  as  they  called 
it — that  is,  from  the  necessity  of  providing  for  their  bodily 
wants — they  contracted  a  dread  and  an  abhorrence  of  their 
bodily  appetites.  Their  passions  became  in  their  eyes  evil 
and  the  source  of  evil.  The  "  animal "  nature  was  at  war 
with  the  "  spiritual."  Their  sonls  were  "  imprisoned"  in 
matter,  and  to  effect  its  deliverance  was  the  wise  man's 
highest  dutv.  The  world  was  a  scene  of  penance ;  life  a 
process  of  discipline  and  purification.  The  sages,  in  their 
writings,  dwelt  fervently  on  this  aspect  of  things.  Their 
litanies  were  burdens  of  contrition,  supplications  to  be  de- 
livered from  the  fatal  tyranny  of  the  body. 

From  the  East  these  thoughts  traveled  Westward.  They 
tilled  the  air  that  Paul  breathed ;  they  possessed  Paul's 
mind ;  they  became  the  cardinal  thoughts  of  his  system. 
The  sense  of  weakness  gave  them  intensity  and  sent  them 
home  to  the  heart.  A  sense  of  infirmity  is  generally 
accompanied  by  a  sense  of  guilt.  Helplessness  is  always 
ready  to  make  confession  of  wickedness.  Seasons  of  de- 
pression are  seasons  of  contrition.  The  times  in  which 
Paul  lived  were  heavy  with  anxiety  and  discouragement. 
The  Hebrew  state  was  on  the  eve  of  dissolution  ;  signs  and 
portents  were  in  the  sky ;  society  was  disorganizing,  and 
all  knew  and  felt  it ;  the  people  groaned  under  oppressive 
rulers  ;  property  was  unsafe  ;  life  was  insecure ;  the  coun- 
try shook  with  suppressed  war  ;  labor  was  precarious  ;  pov- 
erty was  frightful ;  suffering,  in  every  form,  was  hideous ; 
the  iron  tramp  of  the  Roman  legions  was  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance ;  the  war  cloud  that  was  to  envelop  the  nation  came 
rolling  on  ;  the  spirit  of  delusion  and  fanaticism  seized  on 
the  people  ;  madmen  saw  visions,  and  enthusiasts  dreamed 
dreams ;  melancholy  deepened  into  despair,  and  despair 
rushed  into  suicide ;  from  no  quarter  came  promise  of 
help.     Then,  in  their  utter  bewilderment,  the  frightened, 


102  THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY. 

frantic  people  turned  their  eves  up  to  heaven,  and  dropped 
on  their  knees  groaning  and  entreating. 

Similar  outbreaks  of  passion  have  occurred  more  than 
once  in  history.  At  the  close  of  the  tenth  century  a  por- 
tion of  Europe  was  possessed  by  the  belief  that  the  world 
was  coming  to  an  end  in  flame.  The  condition  of  human- 
ity was  most  deplorable.  The  earth  seemed  ready  for 
burning,  and  the  agony  of  weakness  easily  changed  into  an 
agony  of  prayer.  In  the  course  of  our  late  civil  war,  when 
the  Government  was  apparently  brought  to  bay,  when  the 
bloodshed  was  too  appalling  to  think  of,  when  volunteering 
ceased,  and  the  draft  was  resisted,  and  civil  war  menaced 
the  North,  and  the  mob  spirit  began  to  rise,  the  panic  of 
penitential  fear  seized  the  popular  heart,  and  convulsed  it 
'with  terrible  spasms.  Fasts  were  appointed,  crowds  flocked 
to  the  churches,  orthodoxy  stirred  up  its  fires,  revival 
preachers  plied  their  whips  on  the  naked,  quivering  souls, 
and  we  heard  of  nothing  but  sin  and  judgment.  The  tide 
of  public  affairs  turned,  and  the  sackcloth  was  put  off. 

The  financial  distress  of  1857  shook  the  souls  of  men 
even  more  fiercely.  The  collapse  of  credit ;  the  fall  of 
great  commercial  houses,  burying  humbler  establishments 
beneath  their  ruins  ;  the  widespread  impoverishment,  the 
overwhelming  bankruptcy,  the  general  distrust,  the  crazing 
helplessness,  brought  the  usual  feeling  of  moral  infirmity 
and  spiritual  desperation.  The  professors  of  the  art  of  agi- 
tation produced  their  instruments  of  torture  once  more, 
and  went  to  work  to  sting,  prick,  score  and  scanty  the  sen- 
sitive conscience  of  sin.  One  of  the  greatest  "revivals" 
of  the  century  took  place.  The  whole  land  was  shaken  ; 
the  preacher's  exhortation  was  responded  to  by  groans, 
cries,  confessions,  that  seemed  to  indicate  that  the  heart  of 
the  world  was  breaking.  The  return  of  prosperity  and  the 
restoration  of   commercial  credit  dispelled   the   illusion. 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO  DAY.  103 

The  spectres  vanished  ;  the  ministers  of  the  revival  picked 
up  their  tools  and  disappeared ;  the  churches  were  shut, 
and  men  recovered  their  serenity. 

The  "  sense  of  sin "  had  another  justification  in  the 
gigantic  immoralities  of  former  times.  More  than  one 
emperor  was  a  monster  of  wickedness  ;  great  princes  and 
nobles,  even  priests,  cardinals  and  popes,  illustrated,  in 
obscene  and  villainous  ways,  the  bestial  elements  in  human 
nature  ;  eminent  statesmen  and  philosophers  practiced, 
now  and  then,  vices  that  would  put  modern  shamelessness 
to  the  blush.  The  powerful  tyrannized,  the  rich  plun- 
dered, the  great  outraged  justice,  the  holy  violated  decency. 
That  at  the  decline  and  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  a  belief 
in  human  depravity  should  have  prevailed,  is  not  surpris- 
ing. A  conviction  of  sin  was  all  but  a  necessity  when  the 
most  conspicuous  men  were  the  most  conspicuous  sin- 
ners. 

Such  supports  as  these  had  the  doctrine  of  sin — such 
were  its  generating  causes.  But  none  of  these  causes  exist 
now  with  any  force.  The  first  certainly  does  not,  for  the 
contemplative  life  is  confined  to  the  very  few.  It  may  be 
said  that  there  is  no  conscious  war  between  the  terrestrial 
and  the  celestial  life  of  men.  We  are  quite  content  with 
our  bodies  and  their  corporeal  environment.  To  be  disem- 
bodied is  not  the  general  desire.  Very  rarely,  indeed,  do 
we  find  a  Plotinus  who  is  ashamed  of  his  flesh. 

Nor  is  our  age  oppressed  with  a  feeling  of  helplessness. 
Far  enough  from  that!  If  we  are  oppressed  by  anything, 
it  is  by  a  feeling  of  our  sufficiency.  Small  sense  of  imbe- 
cility, the  minimum  of  misgiving,  have  people  who  under- 
take the  management  of  all  their  own  concerns,  choose 
their  rulers,  make  their  laws,  set  up  their  institutions,  pre- 
vent famine,  beat  off  plague,  stamp  out  cholera,  travel  by 
steam,  talk  in  lightning,  and  make  the  forces  of  nature  do 


104  THE  GOSPEL   OF  TO-DAY. 

their  work.  Sense  of  sin,  indeed !  It  is  no  easy  task  to 
start  a  feeble  and  evanescent  feeling  of  modesty  or  humil- 
ity— to  make  tliem  "  realize  "  the  fact  that  they  are  some- 
thing less  than  omnipotent  and  omniscient,  infallible  and 
impeccable.  The  extravagance  of  their  conceit  is  as  huge 
as  the  former  extravagance  of  contrition.  Our  enthusiasts 
talk  of  reducing  everything  to  actual  science,  and  ensuring 
all  possible  good  to  everybody.  .They  promise  prevention 
of  disease,  indefinite  duration  of  life,  perfectly  congenial 
marriages,  assurance  of  healthy  offspring,  the  extirpation 
of  hereditary  taint,  and  the  redemption  of  natural  exist- 
ence from  all  its  ills  by  an  easy  obedience  to  known  prin- 
ciples of  hygiene.  We  hear  of  balloon  carriages  and  arti- 
ficial flying  apparatus,  by  which  we  shall  be  enabled  to 
move  like  birds  through  the  air.  To  suggest  to  such  peo- 
ple that  they  are  sinners,  has  an  air  of  grotesqueness  that 
borders  on  absurdity.  Their  confidence  in  themselves, 
however  overweening,  has,  at  least,  solid  ground  enough 
to  make  impossible  any  general  persuasion  like  that. 

The  sense  of  sin  is  not  countenanced  now  by  gigantic 
private  or  social  enormities.  There  are  bad  men,  unprin- 
cipled gangs  of  men,  criminals,  marauders,  and  plunder- 
ers ;  but  there  are  no  corrupt  orders  or  classes  of  men. 
There  is  no  wholesale  oppression  of  the  weak,  no  system- 
atic grinding  of  the  poor,  no  general  defrauding  of  the 
ignorant,  no  deliberately  organized  inhumanities.  The 
rogues  who  swindle  the  public,  the  plotters  and  schemers 
who  corrupt  legislatures,  are  seen  and  known  of  all  good 
men.  The  public  are  warned  against  them,  the  press 
exposes  them,  opinion  denounces  them  ;  their  proceedings 
are  noticed,  their  ways  tracked,  their  plans  fathomed,  their 
motives  understood',  their  character  dissected,  their  doom 
foretold.  Intemperance  and  licentiousness  are  frightful. 
evils,  but  less  frightful  by  far  than   they   were,  and   are 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY.  105 

made  the  mark  for  general  and  earnest  attack.  The  virtue 
of  the  community  is  pledged  and  banded  against  them. 
There  is  conscience  enough  to  put  all  the  most  grievous 
ills  away,  to  banish  the  rogues,  strip  the  plunderers, 
dethrone  the  tyrants  of  the  railway  and  the  "  ring,"  if  the 
way  to  do  it  were  only  discovered,  if  moral  force  were  but 
seconded  by  sagacity.  At  all  events,  we  feel  that  our  fate 
is  in  our  own  hands ;  confidence  in  natural  ability  is 
"restored ;  the  force  of  honesty  and  ordinary  virtue  is  con- 
ceded. '  ~No  one  thinks  of  calling  in  supernatural  aid  to 
break  up  the  "  ring  "  at  Albany,  or  confound  the  machin- 
ations of  Fisk  and  Gould.  We  ask  no  intervention  of 
miracle-working  saviours  to  redeem  us  from  intemperance 
or  rescue  us  from  the  dominion  of  the  "  social  vice."  If 
wit,  intelligence,  prudence,  self-love,  love  of  the  public 
good,  love  of  humanity,  love  of  God,  will  not  enable  us  to 
redeem  ourselves,  nothing  will. 

The  consciousness  of  sin,  therefore,  is  gone  ;  the  doc- 
trine of  sin  is  obsolete  ;  the  idea  of  sin  has  lost  its  hold  on' 
the  mind  ;  and  with  the  sense  of  sin  disappears  the  ap- 
paratus for  securing  salvation  from  sin.  Farewell  to  in- 
carnate divinity,  saviour,  intercessor,  mediator ;  farewell 
to  priest  and  altar;  farewell  to  church  and  dogma,  to  re- 
vealed theology  and  sanctifying  rite,  to  formularies  of  faith 
and  ecclesiastical  authorities!  Men  are  not  sinners.  Dolts 
they  may  be — blunderers,  dunces,  simpletons,  fools,  wrong- 
doers from  ignorance,  dullness,  inexperience,  immaturity, 
from  unbalanced  minds,  untrained  tempers,  undeveloped 
consciences  ;  but  sinners,  in  the  old  theological  or  "  evan- 
gelical" sense  of  the  word,  no  more.  The  gospel  that  an- 
nounced the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  finds  few  hearers 
among  the  people  of  to-day.  That  message  is  not  listened 
for.  It  meets  no  eager  want,  and  multitudes  refuse  to  go 
where  it  is  spoken. 

5* 


106  TEE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY. 

Another  idea  is  substituted  for  the  idea  of  sin — the  idea 
of  Rectitude.  The  rectitude  of  human  nature  •  not  its 
finished  perfection,  not  "its  complete  integrity,  but  the 
wholesomeness  of  its  elements  and  the  sacredness  of  its 
constitution.  Man  is  not  a  perfect  machine  ;  if  he  were, 
he  would  run  more  evenly  than  he  does ;  he  would  not 
get  out  of  order  or  dash  off  the  track.  He  is  an  organic 
being,  with  powers  of  expansion  and  capacities  of  develop- 
ment ;  but  the  law  by  which  he  is  organized  secures  all 
this,  if  obeyed,  not  thwarted.  He  is  to  take  his  constitution 
as  it  is  and  make  more  of  it,  unfolding  its  faculties  and 
persuading  it  to  grow  in  beauty.  The  "  good  news  "  of 
to-day  imports  that  this  growth  is  possible;  that  man  is  not 
divided  against  himself,  that  social  interests  are  not  at 
war,  that  all  the  powers  are  in  sympathy  and  correspond- 
ence. 

By  contrasting  in  a  few  particulars,  the  gospel  of  yester- 
day with  the  gospel  of  to-day,  this  essential  difference  will 
be  made  apparent. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  announced  faith  in  Christ 
as  its  prime  postulate  ;  the  gospel  of  to-day  announces 
faith  in  human  nature. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  bade  sit  at  Jesus'  feet;  the 
gospel  of  to-day  bids  stand  on  our  own. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  counseled  repose  on  Jesus' 
bosom ;  the  gospel  of  to-day  exhorts  to  "  rally  the  good  in 
the  depths  of  yourself." 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  proclaimed  the  saving  efficacy 
of  the  church,  as  a  close  corporation,  membership  in  which 
secured  the  concurrence  of  the  Holy  Ghost :  the  gospel  of 
to-day  proclaims  the  advent  of  a  free  society,  membership 
in  which  guarantees  participation  in  all  the  blessings  of  a 
common  life. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  offered  salvation  through  sacra- 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY.  107 

ments,  prayers,  pious  exercises,  and  devout  observances ; 
the  gospel  of  to-day  offers  mental  and  moral  health,  through 
education,  culture,  enlightenment,  and  training. 

The  gospel  of  }"esterday  promised  saintliness  and  its  re- 
ward to  those  who  subdued  and  suppressed -themselves — 
to  the  self-renouncing,  the  self-condemning,  the  self-cruci- 
fying ;  the  gospel  of  to-day  promises  wholeness  and  its  re- 
wards to  those  who  enlarge,  expand,  develop,  and  perfect 
themselves — to  the  noble,  the  earnest,  the  aspiring. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  praised  the  beauty  of  submis- 
sion :  the  gospel  of  to-day  sings  the  benefits  of  liberty. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  set  up  as  a  model  the  converted 
man:  the  gospel  of  to-day  erects  as  its  model  the  natural 
man. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  promised  immortality  as  a  boon 
to  believers  in  the  Christ :  the  gospel  of  to-day  promises  im- 
mortality as  the  natural  inheritance  of  rational  beings,  the 
extension  of  rational  existence  beyond  the  grave. 

The  gospel  of  yesterday  opened  a  vision  of  happiness  in 
another  world  :  the  gospel  of  to-day  opens  a  vision  of  hap- 
piness here  on  earth. 

These  are  grave  and  sharp  contrasts,  which  admit  of  no 
reconciliation. 

Is  it  asked  on  what  authority  the  new  gospel  is  preach- 
ed %  Not  on  the  authority  of  instituted  church,  revealed 
doctrine,  or  inspired  Bible  ;  not  on  the  authority  of  any 
individual  teacher  or  set  of  teachers.  It  claims  no  miracu- 
lous authentication ;  it  professes  not  to  be  the  old  word 
under  a  new  interpretation,  but  is  willing  to  stand  on  its 
own  merits.  That  it  is  in  accord  with  the  tendencies  of 
modern  thought,  in  sympathy  with  current  speculation, 
may  be  urged  as  in  its  favor.  But  its  title  to  acceptance 
is  based  on  its  reasonableness.  It  makes  peace  between  the 
two  worlds,  the  temporal  and  the  eternal.     The  deadly 


108  THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY. 

fault  of  the  present  systems  of  religion  is  their  failure  to 
combine  with  the  present  systems  of  politics,  reform,  trade, 
education,  public  activity.  The  thinkers  and  the  worship- 
pers hold  no  communion,  have  no  common  sympathy, 
share  no  interests,  mingle  in  no  enterprises.  Science  and 
faith  are  at  war.  Philosophy  and  faith  are  in  perpetual 
disagreement.  Reform  and  religion  meditate  different 
achievements  and  draw  in  opposite  directions.  The  social 
economists  and  the  preachers  do  not  understand  one  an- 
other, get  in  each  other's  way,  cross  each  other's  track, 
fight  each  other's  proceedings.  The  two  worlds  of  busi- 
ness and  worship  do  not  circle  in  the  same  orbit.  Men  do 
not  trade  and  pray  in  the  same  breath.  Commerce  with 
men  and  commerce  with  God  are  appointed  for  different 
days.     Sense  and'soul  tear  one  another. 

The  effect  of  this  is  most  disastrous.  Nothing  of  mo- 
ment can  be  done.  No  great  thing  that  demands  a  con- 
spiracy of  all  the  great  powers,  of  thought  and  feeling, 
prudence  and  passion,  will  and  wisdom,  knowledge  and 
sentiment,  sagacity  and  aspiration,  can  be  so  mnch  as  at- 
tempted.  No  cause  of  political  or  social  reform,  no  mat- 
ter of  deep  human  concern  in  which  the  interests  of 
thousands  are  involved,  can  be  carried  through  even  the 
preliminary  stages  of  discussion.  Religious  conviction  is 
sure  to  come  in  sharp  collision  with  worthy  common-sense, 
and  laudable  enterprises  are  thus  baffled  at  the  start.  On 
wdiat  should  be  the  smoothest  road,  we  go  hitching,  hob- 
bling, grating  along,  to  the  ruin  of  our  machinery  and  the 
exasperation  of  our  tempers.  Unless  this  radical  evil  can 
be  removed,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  society  is  ever  to  go 
on  in  a  career  of  wholesome  improvement.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  live  at  the  same  in  New  York  and  in  Jerusalem. 
Human  nature  has  no  more  ability  than  it  requires  for  its 
daily  needs,  and,  if  the  highest  order  of  its  energies  is  shut 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  TO-DAY.  '  109 

up  in  a  church  and  held  in  reserve  for  extra-mundane  pur- 
poses, the  amount  of  disposable  force  must  be  seriously 
abridged. 

The  gospel  of  to-day  proposes  to  remedy  this  defect  by 
abolishing  the  discord  in  question,  by  making  it  possible 
to  think  and  pray  at  the  same  time,  and  this  it  proposes 
to  accomplish  by  substituting  a  rational  for  an  irrational 
principle,  and  setting  both  religion  and  life  to  a  new  key. 
It  promises  to  do  this,  and,  if  accepted,  will  do  it.  It  holds 
the  key  of  the  situation. 

Some  may  ask:  Why,  if  this  gospel  is  truly  such  a 
message  of  gladness,  is  it  not  more  cordially  welcomed  ? 
Why  is  its  following  so  small  ?  Why  are  its  churches  so 
few  ? .  Why  are  its  preachers  so  feeble  ?  We  might 
answer  the  question  by  asking  another.  When  was  it 
otherwise?  What  new  gospel  was  ever  welcomed  with 
enthusiasm?  Jesus  left  a  handful  of  disciples.  The  re- 
sult of  Paul's  ardous  labor  was  a  group  of  churches,  in  all 
comprising  but  a  few  hundreds  of  people,  probably,  none 
of  them  absolutely  solid  and  settled  in  his  faith.  Luther's 
"  good  tidings  "  did  not  kindle  the  world.  Channing's 
fell  upon  dull  ears.  Parker's  met  with  a  heartier  response, 
but  even  his  did  not  run  very  swiftly.  Too  many  ears 
must  be  unstopped  to  allow  a  ready  access  to  new  ideas. 
The  more  need  that  they  who  have  heard  the  new  tidings, 
have  received  and  hailed  the  message,  have  been  kindled 
or  quieted,  stirred  or  soothed  by  it,  lifted  by  it  to  new  life, 
or  composed  by  it  to  new  serenity,  should  labor  to  com- 
municate to  others  the  gospel  that  they  are  sure  the  world 
needs. 


VII. 

THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

LET  our  tlieme  be  Character:  the  Gospel  of  Character. 
In  the  book  of  Micah,  an  old  Testament  writing, 
occurs  the  familiar  passage  :  "  He  hath  told  thee,  O  man, 
what  is  good  :- and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee 
but  to  do  justly,  love  mercy,  and  walk  humbly  before  thy 
God  ? "  The  New  Testament  contains  many  such  state- 
ments. Jesus  says,  "Whatsoever  things  ye  would  that 
men  should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them,  for  this  is 
the  law  and  the  prophets."  Paul  writes  :  "  All  the  law  is 
fulfilled  in  this  one  word  :  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself."  James  declares  :  "  If  ye  fulfill  the  royal  law 
according  to  the  Scripture,  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself,  ye  do  well." 

Passing  from  the  Hebrew  and  Christian  writings  to  the 
sacred  writings  %i'  other  religions,  we  find  in  the  Koran, 
among  other  great  sayings,  this:  "A  single  hour  of  jus- 
tice is  worth    seventy  years  of  prayer."      We  open  the  r. 
"Analects"    of    Confucius,  and    light  on   this-  passage:" 
"  When  a  man's  character  is  right,  the  whole  empire  will 
turn  to  him  with  recognition  and  submission."     Similar 
declarations  of  faith  may  be  found  in  other  literatures.     I  . 
could  .  cite  language  equally  emphatic   from   the  Greek 
poets,  the  Roman   philosophers,  the  Eastern    sages,  the 
ancient  oracles  of  Persia,  India,  Egypt,  the  modern  litera- 
ture of  every  country  and  race,  the  moral  essays,  treatises, 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  HI 

discourses  of  eminent  men  of  all  theological  complexions, 
believers  and  unbelievers. 

L)     The  gospel  of   character  is  the  one  universal  gospel, 

proclaimed  everywhere  in  all  ages  ;  always  in  the  same 

spirit,  always  with   essentially  the  same  substance,  fre- 

•'  quently  in  the  same  language.     It  is  the  gospel  of  no 

I   church,  or  sect,  or  religion,  but  of  humanity.     All  have  a 

right  to  preach  it ;  none  have  the  right  to  claim  it  as 

exclusively  their  own.     It  is  no  more  Christian  than  it  is 

'  Pagan.     The  atheist  promulgates  it  as  earnestly  as  the 

|  theist ;  the  materialist  may  stand  by  it  as  loyally  as  the 
spiritualist.  It  is  the  voice  of  experience,  the  verdict  of 
the  moral  nature  of  man. 

The  first  truth  of  this  gospel  is  that  character  is  the 
Alpha  and  the  Omega,  the  first  and  the  last  word,  the 
beginning  and  the  end  of  religion.  It  is  more  than  altar 
and  sacrifice,  more  than  creed  and  confession,  more  than 
ordinance  or  custom.     Character  is  substantial  and  essen- 

-v  tial.  It  is  good  and  sufficient  of  itself.  Add  to  it  all  the 
theologies  in  or  out  of  Christendom,  and  it  will  be  no 
greater  or  worthier.     Take  from  it  everything  that  men 

•  in  churches  call  belief,  and  it  will  not  be  diminished  in 
dignity  or  cheapened  in  worth.  It  fulfills  all  offices.  It 
is  courage  in  danger,  fortitude  in  suffering,  patience  under 
calamity,  peace  in  trouble,  calmness  in  agitation,  consola- 
tion in  grief.  It  answers  all  questions,  solves  all  prob- 
lems. It  is  ready  for  any  emergency.  It  is  prepared  to 
die  and  glad  to  live.  It  has  no  fear,  or  distrust,  or  hope- 
lessness. "What  it  is,  is  well  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God 
and  men.  It  dreads  no  hell,  and  it  sighs  for  no  heaven  ; 
for  it  cannot  fear  that  which  vanishes,  at  its  approach; 
and  it  cannot  long  for  that  which  it  carries  about  with  it. 
The  effects  that  would  follow  the  reception  of  this 
gospel   of   character,    the  effects   that   might   attend   its 


1 J  2  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

earnest  preaching,  may  easily  be  conjectured.  "Were  it 
possible  to  suppose  that  all  the  preachers  in  the  City  of 
New  York  might  discontinue  their  weekly  thrashing  of 
straw,  and  devote  themselves  entirely  to  unfolding  and 
enforcing  this  gospel  of  character,  telling  men  what  good- 
ness is,  and  how  they  may  get  it,  it  would  be  possible  to 
picture  as  the  result  of  their  efforts  a  changed  condition 
of  society.  A  new  spirit  would  be  breathed  into  public 
and  private  life  ;  a  new  tone  would  be  imparted  to  the 
sentiments  and  purposes  of  men  and  women  ;  a  new  aim 
for  endeavor,  a  new  standard  of  action,  would  be  imme- 
diately proposed.  Yice  would  be  discountenanced,  crime 
overawed,  wickedness  rebuked  and  stayed.  Great  evils 
would  sensibly  diminish  ;  politics  would  be  purged  of 
corruption  ;  governments  would  become  reputable  ;  com- 
merce would  acquire  dignity ;  trade  would  be  purified ; 
journalism  would  cease  to  be  a  scandal.  The  wealthy 
and  influential  classes  would  be  thrilled  and  stirred  by  a 
new  sense  of  responsibility ;  the  unprivileged  classes 
would  feel  the  smart  and  tingle  of  a  hitherto  undiscovered 
self-respect.  A  sudden  economy  of  intellectual  and  moral 
power  would  render  practicable  the  concentration  of  a 
vast  reserve  of  spiritual  force  on  objects  of  urgent  im- 
portance. Jealousies  would  be  laid  aside,  hatreds  abated, 
divisions  abolished,  false  issues  discarded;  and,  as  a  con- 
sequence of  this,  a  simultaneous  effort  would  be  made  to 
apply  the  plain  principles  of  the  moral  law  to  the  work 
of  redeeming  the  earth. 

This  being  true — and  there  seems  to  be  no  good  reason 
for  questioning  the  truth  of  it — this  gospel  of  character 
being  so  simple,  so  luminous,  so  universally  recognized, 
so  earnestly  advocated,  so  heartily  approved,  the  neglect 
of  it  is  the  great  marvel.  If  the  principles  of  it  are  so 
self-evident,  why  are  they  not  cordially  taken   up  and 


TEE  GOSPEL  OF  CEARACTEB.  113 

enforced  by  religious  teachers  ?  Why  so  much  backward- 
ness of  profession  ?  Why  so  much  indifference,  coldness, 
discouragement  towards  those  who  transfer  their  emphasis 
from  articles  of  credence  to  qualities  of  being  ? 

The  answer  is  that  the  gospel  of  character  is  not  as 
unreservedly  accepted  as  we  might  at  first  suppose.  Char- 
acter itself  is  not  placed  in  the  position  accorded  to  it  by 
the  great  souls  of  the  race.  Of  course,  all  good  men 
believe  in  goodness  ;  all  worthy  men,  of  whatever  relig- 
ious name,  believe  in  truthfulness,  justice,  honesty,  down- 
rightness,  and  uprightness.  But  the  belief  is  not  primary, 
cardinal,  or  fundamental.  It  is  made  conditional  on  other 
beliefs,  and  therefore  secondary.  Many  things  are  placed 
before  it  in  time  and  in  importance,  rites,  observances, 
traditions,  formulas,  to  which  attention  is  first  paid,  and 
these  require  so  much  attention  that,  before  they  can  be 
dispatched,  the  end  and  aim  of  them  all,  character,  has 
vanished  from  view. 

Let  me,  with  requisite  detail,  elaborate  and  illustrate 
my  point : 

In  the  first  place  allow  me  to  advert  to  a  doctrine  com- 
mon to  all  the  "  Evangelical "  sects,  and  conspicuous  in 
their  scheme,  which  seems  to  preclude  entirely  the  preach- 
ing of  the  gospel  of  character,  and  even  make  character 
itself  unreal,  a  shadowy  and  spectral  thing.  I  mean  the 
popular  doctrine  of  atonement,  reconciliation  with  God 
through  the  merits  of  Christ.  The  doctrine  appears  in 
several  different  forms;  sometimes  it  is  intimated  that  the 
Christ  -bore  the  penalty  of  our  sins ;  sometimes  it  is  im- 
plied that  through  his  living  and  dying,  a  vast  fund  of 
merit  was  accumulated  sufficient,  to  meet  all  possible 
demands  of  sinful  men.  This  fund  being  deposited  with 
the  church,  an  inexhaustible  treasure,  may  be  drawn  from 
on  certain  conditions  of  faith,  thus  affording  any  man  an 


114  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

opportunity  of  paying  his  debts  with  another  person's 
money,  and  cancelling  his  undischarged  obligations  with 
another's  conscience.  A  great  deal  has  been  and  still  is 
said  of  the  necessity  of  clinging  to  the  cross,  resting  on 
the  bosom  of  the  Saviour,  flinging  one's  self  uncondition- 
ally into  the  arms  of  the  Redeemer,  accepting  unreservedly 
the  boon  of  undeserved  grace.  We  hear  the  phrase 
"  imputed  righteousness,"  which  suggests  the  idea  that 
goodness  may  be  transferred,  carried  over  like  some  private 
possession  from  one  person  to  another. 

What  such  expressions  may  mean  I  do  not  pretend  to 
understand.  To  my  mind  they  convey  no  sense  what- 
ever. They  are  unintelligible.  They  who  use  them 
attach  significance  to  them,  no  doubt,  and  significance 
that  is  entirely  compatible  with  individual  virtue  and 
dignity  and  worth.  But  to  me  these  modes  of  speech  hint 
at  ideas  that  are  inconsistent  not  merely  with  any  gospel 
of  character,  but  with  such  a  thing  as  we  understand 
character  to  be.  They  forbid  the  preaching  up  of  char- 
acter as  the  all-important,  indispensable,  radical  thing. 
They  forbid  any  proper  analysis  of  character,  any  true 
investigation  of  its  sources  or  laws,  any  just  appreciation 
of  its  elements  or  conditions.  The  gospel  they  imply  is 
a  gospel  of  redemption  and  atonement,  bristling  with 
theological  points.  The  preacher  makes  it  his  business  to 
descant  on  the  Trinity,  the  deity  of  Christ,  the  depravity 
of  human  nature,  the  necessity  of  faith  in  the  atoning 
sacrifice,  the  need  of  supernatural  pon version  and  restor- 
ing grace.  These  preliminary  matters  occupy  so  much 
attention  that  character  is  pushed  out  of  sight,  almost 
forgotten,  it  appears.  If  regarded  as  the  end  of  all  the 
believing,  prayer,  trusting,  the  end  is  so  far  off  that  it 
looks  shadowy.  In  any  event,  character  becomes  quite  a 
secondary  and  incidental  concern.     Not  that  any  cordial 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  115 

believer  in  the  "evangelical"  theology  despises  it,  neglects 
it,  sets  a  mean  estimate  upon  it,  or  counts  it  of  small  mo- 
ment as  a  sign  or  test  of  the  spiritual  mind.  But  the  cordial 
believer  does  not  make  it  a  primary  consideration,  does 
not  come  at  it  directly,  ordeal  with  it  as  the  one  absorbing 
interest. 

Does  not  this  whole  cast  of  thought  and  speech  militate 
against  the  very  idea  of  building  up,  training  character? 
The  most  important  element  in  character — the  cardinal 
element,  in  fact — is  that  of  personality :,  of  individual  pos- 
session. If  anything  is  our  own,  character  must  be. 
One's  virtue  cannot  be  another's.  Nobody  can  be  good, 
for  his  neighbor.  What  sort  of  thing  is  imputed  right- 
eousness, transferred  sacrifice?  Apples  tied  to  the  twigs 
of  an  apple-tree  ;  flowers  glued  to  a  rose-bush.  The  Ro- 
mish conception  of  superfluous  worth  that  is  available  for 
those  who  have  no  worth  of  their  own,  makes  all  worth  a 
species  of  paper  currency  that  is  good  whether  the  holder 
have  earned  it  or  stolen  it.  A  book  pasted  full  of  autumn 
leaves  is  not  a  forest  tree. 

It  is  not  enough  to  say  that  a  man's  character  is  his 
own.  A  man's  character  is  the  man  himself.  Take  away 
his  character  and  you  reduce  him  to  a  shade,  a  simulacrum, 
a  hollow  mask  or  shell.  The  character  is  the  disciplined 
thought,  feeling,  purpose,  passion,  will  of  the  person. 
What  would  he  be  without  it  ?  An  image  empty  of 
thought,  feeling,  purpose,  passion,  or  will ;  no  person,  that 
is,  at  all ;  a  casket,  perhaps,  of  foreign  jewels  ;  a  recepta- 
cle of  imported  goods  ;  a  warehouse  of  purchased  manu- 
factures, but  no  human  being. 

In  another  way  the  prevalent  doctrine  of  vicarious 
reconciliation,  imputed  righteousness,  transferred  merit, 
proves  fatal  to  the  gospel  of  character,  namely,  by  substi- 
tuting a  wholly  different  creation  in  its  place.     Character, 


116  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

according  to  any  rational  conception  of  it,  consists  of  the 
genuine,  natural  stuff,  the  very  prime  material  of  our 
common  humanity.  It  is  the  last  best  product  of  experi- 
ence and  discipline  working  on  the  mass  that  is  furnished 
by  temperament,  impulse,  desire,  affection,  moral  instinct, 
and  resolution.  It  assumes  the  substantial  worth  of  these 
organic  elements ;  and  only  on  this  assumption  does  the- 
discipline  and  effort  required  to  bring  them  into  shape 
possess  any  moral  quality.  But  if  these  elements  be, 
through  natural  depravity,  useless  for  divine  purposes ;  if 
the  raw  material  be  unfit  for  the  wedding  garment ;  if  it 
must  all  be  condemned  as  sleazy,  rotten  refuse,  filthy  rags, 
good  for  the  waste-bag,  the  construction  of  character  be- 
comes quite  impossible  and  inconceivable.  ~No  training 
will  avail  where  the  qualities  trained  are  destitute  of 
capability  or  soundness.  Discipline  is  wasted  on  rubbish. 
Experience  is  thrown  away  on  a  being  whose  nature  has 
no  consistency  or  power  of  healthy  progress.  The  attri- 
butes that  are  imparted  by  special  grace,  as  the  result  of  a 
new  heart  formed  by  the  supernatural  influence  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  may  be  very  heavenly,  but  they  do  not  in 
any  sense  constitute  character.  They  come  from  another 
than  a  human  source,  and  are  made  of  other  than  human 
material.  They  are  not  the  fruit  of  watching  and  striving ; 
they  have  not  been  earned  ;  they  are  a  gift,  not  a  posses- 
sion ;  a  boon,  not  an  acquisition  ;  an  imparted  grace,  not 
a  substantial  virtue.  They  may  present  something  more 
seraphic  and  celestial  than  character,  but  they  do  not  pre- 
sent character.  They  are  made  not  of  natural,  but  of 
ethereal  stuff;  they  are  obtained  not  by  moral,  but  by 
miraculoiTs  means. 

If  we  are  to  comprehend  character  as  it  is,  in  its  qual- 
ity, law,  sources,  developments,  we  must  discard  these 
theological  notions,  which  are  potent  in  raising  false  issues, 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  117 

interposing  veils  and  obstacles,  diverting  thought  from  the 
practical  problems  in  hand,  and  putting  endeavor  on  the 
wrong  paths.  ~\\7e  must  cease  to  expect  from  foreign 
sources  what  can  come  from  native  struggle  alone.  We 
must  look  facts  in  the  face.  Until  this  is  done,  the  strong 
questions  which  slip  through  the  theologian's  hands  will 
go  undealt  with,  and  the  urgent  business  of  private  and 
public  reform  will  remain  undone. 

But  there  are  other  obstacles  of  a  different  kind  which 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  noble  culture  of  character  that  the 
times  demand.  There  are  those  who  reject  with  even  un- 
necessary emphasis  the  evangelical  doctrine  respecting 
human  nature,  yet  are  almost  as  far  as  its  believers  are 
from  a  clear  apprehension  of  this  new  gospel :  people 
who,  while  admitting  that  character  is  the  primary  and 
essential  thing,  confessing  its  supreme  importance,  recog- 
nizino;  the  fact  that  it  is  constituted  of  natural  human 
stuffs,  acknowledging  that  it  is  a  great  achievement  of 
patience,  fortitude,  courage,  faith,  and  hope,  claiming  that 
it  is  man's  duty  and  privilege  to  work  out  this  great  result 
for  himself — in  a  word,  committing  themselves  to  all  the 
first  principles  I  have  laid  down,  render  their  whole  pro- 
fession inoperative  by  insisting  that  the  basis,  the  only 
valid  basis,  of  character  is  the  ethical  code  of  the  New 
'Testament.  Of  course,  they  say,  character  is  the  end  of  all 
believing  ;  but  there  must  be  believing  in  order  that  there 
may  be  character,  and  the  object  of  belief  is  the  New 
Testament  and  the  words  of  Jesus.  But  for  them,  study 
of  them,  devoted  contemplation  and  observance  of  them, 
virtue,  if  not  impossible,  is  very  uncertain,  precarious,  and 
unsatisfactory.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  illustrated  by 
its  author,  gives  the  perfect  standard  of  character,  presents 
the  strongest  inducements  to  cultivate  character,  lays 
down  the  rules  for  training  character,  prescribes  the  par- 


118  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER 

ticular  qualities  that  should  predominate  in  character,  and 
holds  up  the  prize  which  is  to  reward  its  attainment. 

So  certain  are  they  that  this  method  of  cultivating 
character  is  the  only  legitimate  one,  that  they  make 
character  secondary  to  the  New  Testament.  This  is  my 
first  criticism  on  their  position.  The- gospel  they  preach 
is  not  the  gospel  of  character  hut  the  gospel  of  belief. 
They  have  much  to  say  about  the  genuineness  of  the  New 
Testament,  the  authenticity  of  its  record,  the  importance 
of  reading  it  with  implicit  faith,  the  surprising  grandeur 
of  its  moral  ideas,  the  miracle  of  moral  beauty  exhibited 
in  Jesus,  the  need  that  all  should  sit  at  his  feet,  and  look 
up  to  him  with  profoundest  reverence.  They  have  much 
less  to  say  about  honesty,  veracity,  justice,  fair  dealing 
between  man  and  man.  The  numerous  preliminaries  pre- 
vent their  getting  earnestly  at  work  with  men  and  their 
affairs.  Their  problems  are  all  speculative,  and  semi-theo- 
logical. 

A  graver  objection  to  their  method  is,  that  it  is  un- 
scientific. They  would  ground  character  on  texts  instead 
of  facts,  on  the  printed  words  of  a  book  instead  of  the 
actual  data  of  modern  experience.  None  but  technical 
Christians  can  build  on  their  foundation.  The  Jew  can- 
not, for  he  does  not  believe  in  Christ ;  the  Turk  cannot ; 
the  philosopher  cannot ;  the  unbeliever  of  whatever  class 
cannot ;  humanity  in  its  unchurched,  unindoctrinated  con- 
idtion  cannot.  The  standard  is  peculiar  ;  the  education  is 
partial ;  the  training  is  exceptional  and  eccentric.  It  is 
only  when  we  perceive  how  peculiar,  partial,  exceptional, 
and  eccentric  the  whole  aim  and  method  are,  that  we  un 
derstand  the  full  force  of  objection  to  it. 

It  seems  to  be  forgotten  that  the  Bible  is  an  oriental 
book  reflecting  the  mind  of  an  oriental  people.  It  seems 
to  be  forgotten  that  Jesus  was  an  oriental,  a  child  of  the 


TEE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  HQ 

East,  partaking  all  the  peculiarities  that  distinguished  the 
eastern  type  of  character.  Now,  the  characteristics  of  the 
oriental  ethics  is  passivity.  As  a  people  the  orientals  are 
tranquil,  sedate,  sometimes  soft  and.  yielding,  sometimes 
inert,  capable  of  fiery  outbreaks  of  passion,  but  capable, 
too,  of  abject  submission.  The  mild,  monotonous  climate, 
the  productiveness  of  the  soil,  the  languid  effect  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  uneventfulness  of  daily  existence,  the  ab- 
sence of  stir  and  change  in  the  general  lot — all  conspired 
to  repress  their  energies,  deaden  their  ambition,  and  to 
destroy  the  impulse  as  they  did  the  necessity  of  struggle. 
Their  government  being  usually  despotic,  granting  no 
privileges,  offering  no  prizes,  guaranteeing  no  rights,  en- 
couraging no  liberties,  exerted  a  depressing  influence  on 
their  aims  and  purposes.  They  naturally  became  acqui- 
escent and  content  with  little;  their- expectations  feeble, 
their  hopes  faint,  their  prospects  of  an  improved  condition 
small,  they  learned  the  easy  lesson  of  resignation  to  the 
will  of  Providence,  submission  to  the  appointed  lot.  The 
vigorous  virtues  did  not  take  root  in  their  temperament ; 
the  vehement  desire  for  personal  rights  they  knew  nothing 
of;  the  aspiration  for  liberty,  power,  privilege,  rarely 
visited  their  souls.  The  ethics  of  civilization,  the  moral 
rules  of  a  progressive  people,  were  unknown  to  them. 

The  ethics  of  the  New  Testament  are  of  this  sad  com- 
plexion. They  are  the  ethics  of  poverty,  weakness,  sor- 
row. They  are  pitched  on  a  low  key,  for  joyless  hearts. 
They  are  the  ethics  of  sighing,  complaint,  and  grief.  The 
Beatitudes  are  pensive.  They  promise  felicity  to  the 
miserable ;  they  exalt  the  timid  and  the  acquiescent. 
Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit;  Blessed  are  they  that 
mourn  ;  Blessed  are  the  meek  ;  Blessed  are  the  merciful ; 
Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart;  Blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers; Blessed  are  the  reviled  and  persecuted.     The  re- 


120  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

ligion  of  Jesus  lias  been  called  the  religion  of  sorrow.  He 
is  the  man  of  sorrows ;  the  meek  and  lowly  ;  the  holy 
child ;  the  lamb.  He  invites  the  weary  and  heavy  laden 
to  his  rest.  He  loves  the  humble,  unambitious  mind.  His 
message  is  to  the  disappointed,  the  unprivileged  ;  the 
burden  of  the  message  is,  that  the  Father  is  their  friend. 

Special  precepts  and  groups  of  precepts  wear  this  same 
expression  of  gentle  self-abnegation  and  patient  submission 
to  fortune.  The  disciple  is  admonished  to  surrender  his 
personal  rights  and  even  yield  uncomplainingly  to  wrong. 
"  Agree  with  thine  adversary  quickly,  while  you  walk  to- 
gether, lest  thine  adversary  deliver  thee  to  the  officer." 
Compromise  is  better  than  controversy.  Yield  anything 
rather  than  contend.  "  If  any  man  sue  thee  at  the  law 
and  take  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloak  also."  "If a 
man  (a  government  officer)  insist  on  your  going  a  mile  in 
his  service,  go  two."  "  Retaliate  not  on  the  injurer." 
"  Whosoever  shall  smite  thee  on  the  right  cheek,  turn  to 
him  the  other  also."  Whether  absolute  passiveness,  entire 
non-resistance  be  meant  or  no,  such  passages  discourage 
resentment,  and  forbid  the  exercise  of  the  personal  will. 
To  be  saintly  is  to  surrender. 

The  precepts  in  regard  to  property  and  its  uses  are  mark- 
ed by  the  same  spiritless  tone.  "  Give  to  him  that  asketh 
of  thee :  and  from  him  that  would  borrow  of  thee  turn 
not  thou  away."  "  Go,  sell  what  thou  hast  and  give  to  the 
poor."  "  If  ye  lend  to  those  from  ye  hope  to  receive, 
what  merit  is  there  ?  "  "  Do  good  and  lend,  hoping  for 
nothing  again ;  that  your  reward  may  be  great."  No 
mention  at  all  of  any  rights  in  property ;  no  intimation 
that  property  may  have  its  uses  ;  no  hint  that  the  making 
of  money  may  be  a  necessity  and  even  a  duty.  The  des- 
titute are  the  people  to  be  considered ;  the  privileged  are 
the  penniless. 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  121 

The  rule  of  hospitality  is  made  in  favor  of  those  who 
have  nothing.  "  When  thou  makest  a  feast,  call  not  thy 
friends  and  rich  neighbors,  lest  they  invite  thee  in  turn, 
and  a  recompense  he  made;  but  call  the  poor,  the  lame, 
the  maimed,  and  the  blind."  The  cardinal  principle  is. 
the  mortification  of  taste,  the  renunciation  of  grace,  cul- 
ture, refinement,  the  postponement  of  all  social  considera- 
tions to  the  single  consideration  of  making  the  poor  happy. 

The  one  quality  eulogized,  commended,  enjoined,  urged 
without  qualification  or  stint,  is  the  quality  of  loving- 
kindness.  You  are  sure  to  be  in  the  right  way  if  you 
love  enough.  Ask  no  questions ;  make  no  comments  ; 
offer  no  criticisms  ;  find  no  fault ;  administer  no  rebuke  ; 
plead  no  excuses  ;  but  open  hand  and  heart  to  all  comers, 
whosoever  they  may  be.  Love  will  justify  itself.  This 
is  the  strain  all  through.  Nowhere  will  you  find  similar 
commendations  of  equity,  veracity,  personal  honor,  or 
loyalty.  "We  do  not  hear  from  the  lips  of  Jesus  the  stern 
bidding  to  tell  the  truth,  to  do  justice,  to  be  faithful  to  the 
work  of  the  hour.  lie  addresses  no  admonitions  to  the 
weak,  the  miserable,  the  dejected.  Where  does  he  bid 
the  poor  to  be  industrious,  provident,  thrifty,  or  self-re- 
specting ?  Where  does  he  make  a  point  of  rousing  the 
wretched  to  endeavor,  or  shaming  the  dependent  out  of 
their  idleness  or  despair  ?  Whom  does  he  ever  summon 
to  an  assertion  of  rights  ?  Whom  does  he  ever  except 
from  the  categories  of  compassion  ? 

The  ethics  of  the  New  Testament  are  very  beautiful  ; 
the  character  of  Jesus  is  exceedingly  lovely ;  the  air  of 
heaven  breathes  around  him ;  his  thoughts  are  celestial ; 
his  words  drop  from  his  mouth  like  gems.  We  read  his 
delicious  rhapsodies  with  unwearied  pleasure ;  they  feed 
the  heart's  craving  for  blessed  dreams ;  they  are  the 
ethics  of  the  millennium  ;  the  moral  laws  of  a  redeemed 

6 


122  THE  GOSPEL  OF  I'll  All  ACT ER. 

humanity.  They  will  work  admirably  when  men  and 
women  shall  be  men  and  women  no  longer;  when  passion 
shall  be  purified  and  conscience  shall  be  king;  when  in- 
terests shall  no  more  seem  to  clash,  and  relations  shall  no 
more  be  a  jangle,  and  jealousies  and  hates  shall  be  extin- 
guished, and  the  long  struggle  with  fortune  shall  be  ended, 
and  we  shall  all  feel  like  little  children  in  a  brighter  and 
nobler  Eden. 

But  this  charming  code  meets  with  a  harsh  reception 
from  the  temper  of  our  Western  world.  The  modern 
man  finds  it  quite  unfit  for  a  working  existence,  and 
while  he  pays  it  a  sentimental  homage  on  Sundays,  on 
the  other  days  of  the  week  he  scarcely  recognizes  its  ex- 
istence, never  its  authority,  lie  blesses  the  peacemakers 
in  church,  and  the  next  day  takes  a  contract  for  supplying 
arms  to  a  State  at  war.  He  hears  from  the  preacher  the 
touching  praises  of  beneficence,  and  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
beggars  cry  in  the  street.  He  assents  to  the  lessons  of 
brotherly  love  towards  enemies  and  persecutors,  and  goes 
away  to  commence  a  long  and  costly  suit  for  slander,  or 
to  expose  to  disgrace  some  person  who  has  unintentionally, 
perhaps,  insulted  him. 

The  modern  man  stands  for  rights.  Rights  first,  duties 
afterward,  is  his  maxim.  His  life  is  a  struggle  for  power, 
place,  privilege,  often  for  bare  subsistence.  He  must  make 
good  his  title  to  labor,  to  enjoy  and  use  the  fruits  of  his 
labor,  to  develop  his  capacity,  to  exercise  his  talent,  to 
throw  h.is  influence  where  it  will  tell  to  most  advantage. 
He  is  responsible  for  many  things  ;  for  social  morality,  for 
the  character  of  the  laws,  the  spirit  and  form  of  institu- 
tions, the  administration  of  government.  His  character- 
istic is  energy.  Every  strenuous  quality  is  greeted  with 
praise.  The  passive  virtues  fall  into  disfavor.  Patience 
is  misunderstood  ;  contentment  is  disapproved  of;  acqui- 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  123 

escence  in  the  established  order  is  rebuked  ;  pusillanimity  is 
despised  ;  humility  is,  to  say  the  least,  not  revered  ;  meek- 
ness has  a  bad  name ;  resignation  is  tolerated  only  in 
circumstances  of  despair.  The  rule  is  to  submit  to  noth- 
ing vexatious,  distressing,  oppressive,  or  unjust,  but  to 
resist,  while  strength  lasts,  the  encroachments  of  evil  or 
mischievous  men,  of  government  officials,  of  legal  pressure, 
of  adverse  circumstances.  Self-assertion  becomes  at  times 
a  sacred  duty.  Even  women  must  compel  themselves  to 
face  difficulty,  grapple  with  hardship,  resent  imposition, 
repel  injustice,  and,  in  the  endeavor  to  obtain  what  is 
necessary  to  their  culture  and  usefulness,  assume  the  disa- 
greeable -attitude  of  claimants  and  contestants.  In  the 
sharp  battle  for  moral  existence,  even  good,  kindly, 
amiable,  humane,  delicate  people  must  be  perpetually  on 
the  alert  to  seize  opportunities  and  secure  dues.  On  no 
other  conditions  can  modern  society  exist  or  modern  civil- 
ization be  carried  on. 

We  do  not  pretend  to  obey  the  precepts  of  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount.  It  does  not  occur  to  us  to  imitate 
the  example  of  Jesus  in  his  passive  submission  to  wrong. 
Who  thinks  it  right  or  prudent  to  allow  himself  to  be  im- 
posed upon  by  indolent  or  insolent  people  ?  Who  acts  on 
the  principle  of  compromising  issues  at  any  cost  ?  Who, 
as  a  simple  matter  of  wisdom  or  caution,  turns  the  other 
cheek  to  the  smiter  ?  Who,  however  unrevengeful,  plac- 
able or  generous,  deems  it  best  to  inflict  no  harm  on  the 
wrong  doers,  to  let  criminals  escape  justice,  to  allow  the 
enemies  of  society  to  go  unpunished  %  The  spirit  in  our 
age  is  willing  and  more  than  willing  to  take  the  element 
of  vengeance  out  of  the  criminal  code,  but  it  would  erect/ 
new  moral  safeguards  against  the  encroachments  of  evil.  / 

The  New  Testament  law   respecting  property    is,    if 
possible,  still  more   uncongenial   with  the   modern   age. 


124  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

Property  has  its  rights  as  well  as  its  duties ;  and  its  duties 
have  regard  to  the  stability  and  progress  of  civilization. 
It  is^lie  great  instrument  in  redeeming  nature,  multiplying 
arts,  projecting  inventions.  It  is  too  precious  to  be  mis- 
used or  given  away  or  squandered  on  incompetent  people. 
Were  it  held  a  sacred  duty  on  the  part  of  good  men  to 
"  put  their  property  .in  such  controllable  shape  as  to  make  it 
available  for  benevolent  ends,"  all  the  arrangements  of  the 
business  world  would  have  to  be  altered  in  order  that  it 
might  be  discharged.  Tools  to  those  who  can  use  them, 
is  our  motto.  Money  to  those  who  have  the  intelligence 
to  employ  it  best,  to  the  men  of  talent  and  genius,  the  dis- 
coverers, builders,  benefactors  of  the  race.  It  were  poor 
economy  to  give  the  hardly  earned  wealth  of  a  community 
like  ours  to  the  incompetent  and  imbecile.  It  were  put- 
ting ability,  sagacity,  experience,  diligence,  to  a  singular 
use,  if  the  object  of  it  all  were  to  be  the  maintenance  of 
the  feeble,  the  stupid,  the  indolent,  the  unproductive.  Let 
these  by  all  means  have  their  due  share.  But  to  treat 
them  as  if  they  were  the  sole  objects  of  concern,  would  be 
to  give  them  vastly  more  than  their  due  share.  The  mis- 
chief done  to  all  classes  by  this  species  of  benevolence  is 
well  and  bitterly  known  to  all  the  world.  If  we  sell  our 
goods,  we  sell  them  in  the  best  market  to  those  who  most 
want  them  and  can  best  use  them.  The  poor  will  derive 
benefit  from  the  sale  in  greater  opportunities  and  facility 
of  living,  in  cheaper  food  and  more  lucrative  industry. 
Increasing  goods  is  better  kindness  than  distributing  goods. 
Civilization  is  a  nobler  benefactor  than  charity. 

The  Kew  Testament  rule  of  hospitality  would  render 
cultivated  society  impossible,  for  cultivated  society  is  the 
result  of  association  of  cultivated  people  with  one  another. 
An  attempt  to  make  such  feasts  as  Jesus  recommended,  if 
successful,  would  lead  society  downward.     But  it  could 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  125 

not  be  successful.  It  would  be  a  silly  piece  of  formal 
affectation,  like  the  pope's  washing  of  the  paupers'  feet  at 
Easter  time  in  Home.  None  but  saints  can  exercise  hos- 
pitality on  this  gospel  plan,  and  a  rule  that  supposes 
saiutliness  in  mankind  at  large  is  no  rule  for  this  world. 

The  "  law  of  Love,"  which  is  the  foundation  of  the 
New  Testament  code  of  ethics,  and  the  essential  element 
in  the  evangelical  stamp  of  character,  is  no  where  recog- 
nized as  a  working  principle  by  the  "  Christian  "  people 
of  the  Western  world.  The  word  is  charming  ;  the  sen- 
timent is  gracious  ;  the  view  is  enchanting  ;  and  if  visions 
were  principles,  and  feelings  facts,  and  emotions  laws, 
and  sentiments  rules  of  conduct,  there  would  be  no  diffi- 
culty in  reproducing  in  America  the  type  of  men  and 
women  that  the  East  furnishes.  But  love  is  too  soft  a 
metal  for  practical  needs.  A  great  deal  of  alloy  must  be 
mingled  with  it  in  order  that  it  may  do  the  work  of 
reform  and  regeneration.  All  sorts  of  strong  qualities 
must  go  with  it  as  guards  and  guides— knowledge,  sagacity, 
tact,  experience,  prudence,  wisdom,  truth.  Love  does  not 
always  work  well.  None  need  to  look  more  carefully 
about  them  than  they  who  undertake  to  apply  it  to  the 
sufferings,  sorrows,  and  ills  of  men.  Who  shall  say  what 
love  requires  in  any  particular  case  ?  the  supplicant  for  it 
or  the  bestower  of  it  %  they  who  feel  the  need  or  they 
who  supply  the  need  ?  What  objects  is  love  designed  to 
serve  ?     On  what  conditions  is  love  to  be  administered? 

We  must  know  whom  we  are  engaged  with.  The 
modern  man  asks  questions:  Who  are  }tou  ?  What -tire 
you  ?  Whence  came  you  ?  What  have  you  done  ?  What 
can  you  do  ?  What  do  you  mean  to  do  %  It  is  not  enough 
that  you  have  suffered  ;  that  you  are  in  pain,  want,  or  sor- 
row;  the  question  goes  deeper:  Are  you  good  for  any- 
thing ?     Have  you  anything  to  build  on  ?     What  are  you 


126  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

capable  of  becoming  ?  "What  ground  is  there  for  believing 
that  compassion,  tenderness,  patience,  forgiveness,  pity, 
will  do  you  anything  but  harm  ? 

The  modern  man,  the  best,  the  kindest  man,  asks  these 
questions,  prompted  to  ask  them  by  his  humanity  ;  by  his 
anxious  desire  to  do  what  he  can  to  diminish  suffering  and 
relieve  want,  and  reduce  the  amount  of  evil  about  him. 
Love  is  not  searching  enough,  or  clear  enough,  or  quick- 
ening enough.  The  character  that  is  based  on  love  lacks 
the  substance  and  cohesiveness  which  the  exigency  of  life 
requires. 

This  want  of  sympathy  between  the  ethics  of  the  ISTew 
Testament  and  the  ethics  of  civilization  amounts  to  a 
contradiction.  Few  persons  pretend  to  carry  the  precepts 
of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  into  their  business  or  social 
relations.  There  are  no  practical  Christians  ;  Jesus  has 
few  imitators.  They  who  make  a  profession  of  copying 
him  either  go  out  of  the  world  to  do  it,  or  satisfy  them- 
selves with  professing.  The  mischief  of  this  state  of 
things  is  appalling.  Earnest,  devout,  conscientious  men 
are  driven  out  of  the  world.  The  rest,  seeing  how  im- 
possible it  is  for  them  to  conform  to  the  ideal  standard, 
abandon  the  effort,  and  fall  into  the  practice  of  selfishness. 
The  lowest  interest  becomes  their  law.  They  justify 
themselves  in  coarse  manners  and  mean  pursuits,  and  an 
inhuman  spirit. 

No  discipline  of  character  is  possible  unless  character 
be  grounded  on  the  facts  of  human  nature,  human  expe- 
rience, and  human  necessities.  The  New  Testament  is  a 
fact  in  literature  ;  not  a  fact  in  life.  So  little  is  known 
about  Jesus  as  a  man,  living  in  personal  relations  with 
other  men,  and  standing  face  to  face  with  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances, that  his  character  can  hardly  be  considered  a 
fact  in  human  history.     He  does  not  teach  us  as  a  person ; 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  127 

lie  had  no  home,  no  child,  no  wife  ;  he  was  without  a  pro- 
fession or  trade ;  was  neither  merchant,  politician,  jour- 
nalist, artist,  artizan,  or  man  of  letters.  His  attributes 
are  disembodied  ;  his  sentiments  are  not  organized. 

Character  must  rest  on  facts ;  but  a  text  is  not  a  feet. 
Men  must  be  taken  as  they  are,  not  as  they  ought  to  be. 
We  should  dream  of  them  as  they  ought  to  be,  but  we  must 
train  them  on  the  ground  where  they  live  and  labor.  Be- 
fore there  can  be  a  scientific  culture  of  character,  that  is, 
before  there  can  be  any  culture  of  character  at  all,  before 
the  qualities  that  compose  character  can  be  determined  on 
and  made  imperative,  there  must  be  a  knowledge,  not  of 
the  New  Testament,  but  of  the  elements  of  personal 
nobleness,  and  of  the  issues  at  stake  between  man  and 
man. 

The  investigation  of  these  vital  data  of  character  is  a 
work,  at  present,  of  some  difficulty,  hampered  as  we  are 
by  such  obstacles  as  I  have  described.  But  enough  is 
known  of  them  to  justify  us  in  announcing  another  prin- 
ciple in  the  place  of  that  put  forth  in  the  New  Testament. 
)  That  principle  is  Justice.  It  is  the  pillar  of  noble  char- 
acter, resting  on  primeval  rock,  the  absolute  truth.  It  may 
be.  it  will  be,  it  must  be,  all  that  wisest  love  is.  It  is,  in 
its  nature,  tender  as  tenderness,  merciful  as  mercy,  pitiful 
as  pity,  gentle  as  gentleness,  loving  as  love.  But  it  is  all 
these  because  it  is  more  than  they  all.  It  has  no  particu- 
lar regard  for  classes,  for  its  regard  takes  in  all  classes. 
It  does  not  enter  on  a  special  ministry  to  the  poor,  the 
weak,  the  afflicted  ;  for  the  rich,  the  strong,  the  joyous  are 
equal  objects  of  its  care.  It  knows  absolutely  no  distinc- 
tion of  persons,  no  difference  of  conditions.  It  knows  hu- 
man responsibility  and  duty  alone.  Its  intention  is  not 
t.>  soothe  distress.,  but  to  embolden  it;  not  to  support  the 
poor,  but  to  make  them  self-supporting ;  not  to  feed  the 


128  TEE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

hungry,  but  to  enable  them  to  earn  their  own  bread ;  not 
to  console  sorrow,  but  to  touch  the  recuperative  energies 
that  will  avail  to  throw  it  off.  Justice  tones  up  the  senti- 
ments, braces  the  will,  and  clears  the  intelligence,  for  it 
judges  all  by  the  same  standard,  and  holds  all  to  the  same 
rule.  Tt  emancipates  us  from  the  sway  of  feeling,  whose 
sentimental  rule  is  so  out  of  place  in  a  world  governed  by 
eternal  law. 

Justice  is  both  masculine  and  feminine  at  once,  and  the 
practice  of  it  is  an  education  in  manly  and  womanly  quali- 
ties. The  ancients  painted  her  in  the  form  of  a  woman, 
and  endowed  her  with  masculine  virtues.  There  is  a 
picture  of  Jesus  in  the  Wilderness  in  quest  of  the  lost 
sheep.  The  scene  is  a  sanely  waste,  with  an  occasional  bit 
of  rock  cropping  out  from  the  ground.  There  is  no  habi- 
tation, there  is  no  forest,  there  is  no  shrubbery,  save  two 
or  three  angry-looking  thorn  bushes,  in  one  of  which  a 
poor  lamb  is  entangled.  In  the  distance,  the  clouds  of 
sand  are  sweeping  along  before  the  wind.  In  the  fore- 
ground, the  noon-day  sun  is  driving  its  flaming  sword  into 
the  earth.  To  this  place  Jesus  has  come,  that  he  may 
save  the  sheep.  His  patient  arm  is  outstretched,  and 
his  long,  tender  fingers  penetrate  the  briars.  The  great 
compassionate  eyes  melt  at  sight  of  the  suffering;  the 
sorrowful,  sympathetic  face  answers  the  pleading  look  of 
the  turn  animal.  It  is  very  touching,  gracious,  heavenly. 
It  is  the  poetry  of  tender  pity  and  sacrifice.  Cut  as  we 
look  at  it,  there  seems  to  be  a  disproportion  between 
means  and  ends,  a  lack  of  adaptation  that  takes  away  from 
the  picture  its  artistic  charm.  All  this,  we  are  tempted 
to  exclaim,  for  a  sheep  ?  Could  not  the  vast  intellect  that 
sits  behind  the  broad  brow,  the  immense  kindness  that 
looks  out  from  the  countenance,  the  prodigious  force  of 
will  thai  is  displayed   in  every  line  and  feature,  be  better 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER.  129 

employed  than  thus  ?  To  devise  means  of  turning  the 
wilderness  into  a  cultivated  field  or  a  verdant  meadow,  on 
which  innocent  sheep  might  browse  in  peace,  were  a  wiser 
and  a  more  beneficent  deed.  Why  should  the  fullness  of 
the  heart  suspend  the  action  of  the  brain  ?  Why  should 
excessive  compassion  push  out  of  the  way  considerations 
of  equity  and  economy  ?  Why  should  not  all  powers  be 
exercised  and  all  needs  consulted  ? 

Justice  is  guilty  of  no  such  error  as  this.  We  look  at 
her  image  as  set  up  by  antiquity,  and  behold  a  woman's 
form,  stately  and  graceful  in  bearing  ;  she  stands  erect  and 
motionless,  seeking  none,  because  she  is  everywhere,  in 
the  wilderness  and  the  city  without  going  thither.  Her 
right  hand  rests  on  the  hilt  of  a  sword,  sharp  at  both 
edges,  and  of  keen  point,* ready  to  smite  transgressors  in 
case  of  need.  Her  left  hand  holds  on  high  the  nicely  bal- 
anced scales,  that  will  weigh  characters,  actions,  motives, 
with  unswerving  accuracy ;  her  eyes  are  bandaged,  that 
she  may  not  see  who  drops  in  the  weight,  whether  it  be 
prince  or  peasant,  king  or  beggar,  or  what  the  weight  is, 
whether  a  crime  or  a  virtue ;  she  blinds  herself  to  all  dif- 
ferences in  persons,  but  she  herself  is  not  blind ;  she  sees 
with  the  inward  eye  the  invisible  principles  of  right  and 
wrong,  the  impalpable  laws  of  rectitude.  These  reveal 
themselves  to  her  in  the  night.  Though  they  be  hidden 
in  secret  places  she  detects  them.  They  disclose  them- 
selves to  her ;  they  come  to  her  and  drop  into  the  scale 
their  own  condemnation  or  praise.  She  needs  not  to  see 
what  they  put  in,  the  scale  is  held  high ; — the  world  sees 
and  judges. 

This  is  the  figure  the  new  faith  -would  set  up  in  the 
highways  and  byways,  as  the  image  of  the  consoler  and 
saviour.  A  tract  was  sent  me  last  week,  to  one  passage 
in  which  my  particular  attention  was  called.     There  it  was 

6* 


130  THE  GOSPEL  OF  CHARACTER. 

said  that  the  minister's  office  was  to  save  souls — not  to 
preach  eloquent  sermons,  or  gather  large  congregations,  or 
collect  a  large  revenue,  or  get  a  large  salary — but  simply 
to  save  souls.  The  silent  imputation  was,  that  I  was 
doing  all  the  naughty  things  aforesaid,  and  leaving  the  one 
indispensable  thing  undone.  But  if  there  be  one  accu- 
sation I  feel  justified  in  repelling,  it  is  an  accusation  like 
this.  Save  souls,  indeed  !  From  what,  if  not  from  false 
reliances  and  unsafe  refuges,  from  delusions  and  senti- 
mentalisms,  from  the  power  of  phrases  and  the  bondage 
of  traditions,  from  hypocrisy  and  cant  ?  He  does  a  good 
deed  who  saves  a  soul  from  insincerity,  un veracity,  holloV- 
ness,  pretence,  and  sham,  and  the  gospel  that  saves  from  this 
seemingly  bottomless  hell  is  no  gospel  of  Trinity,  atone- 
ment, mediation,  justification  by  a  Redeemer's  blood — it 
is  the  plain  gospel  of  justice  and  veracity,  the  gospel  of 
obedience  to  the  natural  laws,  which  are  divine  command- 
ments ;  the  gospel  of  mutual  obligation,  which  is  the  gos- 
pel of  eternal  felicity. 


Yin. 

THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PKAYEK. 

THE  subject  of  this  discourse  is  the  Scientific  Aspect 
of  Prayer.  The.  Bible  doctrine  of  prayer — there  is 
but  one — is  simple.  It  is  fully  declared  in  texts  like 
these  :  "Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you  ;"  -"All  things 
whatsoever  ye  ask  in  prayer,  believing,  ye  shall  receive  ;" 
"  The  prayer  of  faith  shall  save  the  sick,  and  the  Lord 
shall  raise  him  up  ;"  "  If  two  of  you  shall  agree  on  earth 
as  touching  anything  they  shall  ask,  it  shall  be  done  for 
them  by  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven."  There  is  no 
variety  or  qualification.  Whatever  the  request,  if  proffered 
in  faith  by  believers  in  Jehovah  or  disciples  of  the  Christ, 
it  is  granted.  The  doctrine  is  borne  out  by  frequent  illus- 
trations. "  Moses  went  out  of  the  city  of  Pharaoh  and 
spread  abroad  his  hands  unto  the  Lord,  and  the  thunder 
and  hail  ceased,  and  the  rain  was  not  poured  upon  the 
earth."  "  The  Hagarites  and  all  that  were  with  them 
were  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  Israelites,  for  they 
cried  to  (rod  in  the  battle  and  he  was  entreated  by  them." 
"  Elias  prayed  earnestly  that  it  might  not  rain  ;  and  it 
did  not  rain  for  the  space  of  three  years  and  six  months  ;" 
"  And  Jabez  called  on  the  God  of  Israel,  saying,  oh,  that 
thou  wouldst  bless  me  indeed,  and  enlarge  my  coast  and 
keep  me  from  evil ;  and  God  granted  him  that  which  he 
requested."  The  prayer  of  Elijah  is  reported  to  have 
brought  fire  from  the  Lord  that  consumed  wood,  and 
stones,  and  dust,  and  licked  up  water  in  a  trench.     The 


132  TEE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PBA  TER. 

prayer  of  Jesus  raised  Lazarus  from  the  dead.  The 
prayer  of  the  Church  opened  the  doors  of  Peter's  prison. 
According  to  the  teaching  of  the  Bible,  prayer  has  re- 
ceived every  possible  form  of  answer.  It  has  stayed  pes 
tilence,  abated  famine,  averted  war,  arrested  the  heavenly 
bodies,  made  iron  float  and  water  burn. 

Christendom  adopts  the  belief  of  the  Bible.  The  doc- 
trine of  the  Church  in  every  period  has  been  coincident 
with  that  of  the  Scriptures.  The  same  belief  is  professed 
now  by  Romanists  and  Protestants.  Theological  books, 
and  boohs  of  piety  of  both  schools,  abound  in  stories  of 
literal  answer  to  prayer.  The  rationalizing  evangelist, 
Horace  Bushnell,  devotes  a  chapter  of  his  work  on  "  Na- 
ture and  the  Supernatural,"  to  a  discussion  of  this  ques- 
tion, and  adduces  several  instances  of  answer  to  prayer  in 
the  shape  of  recovered  life  and  vigor.  In  England,  a  sect 
calling  themselves  "the  peculiar  people,"  are  distinguished 
by  their  implicit  faith  in  the  wonder-working  power  of 
prayer.  They  call  in  no  physician  to  their  sick  and  use 
none  of  the  customary  precautions  against  the  effect  of 
disease.  When  the  sick  die,  as  they  frequently  do,  they 
regard  the  event  as  of  divine  appointment.  Once  or 
twice  the  law  has  interposed,  and  the  "  peculiar  people  " 
have  been  called  to  account  by  society  for  tampering  thus 
with  human  life.  Their  defense  has  been  the  text  from 
James,  which  they  obeyed  strictly,  and'  against'  which, 
society,  assuming  the  inspiration  of  the  Word  had  nothing 
to  say.  The  cases  were  dismissed  by  the  Court  of  Justice. 
To  the  objection  that  instances  of  literal  answer  to  prayers 
for  rain,  or  health,  or  safety,  or  victory,  or  other  outward 
boons,  are  infrequent  now,  it  is  replied  that  the  infre- 
quency  is  due  to  the  prevalent  skepticism  ;  that  prayers  are 
not  offered  in  faith  ;  that  ours  is  an  unbelieving  age,  ad- 
dicted to  science  and  philosophy,  which  does  not,  will  not, 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRATER.  133 

cannot  fulfil  the  conditions  on  which  answer  to  prayer  is 
promised.  Of  course  people  who  cannot  heartily  pray, 
have  lio  right  to  complain  that  God  gives  them  nothing. 
They  who  do  heartily  pray,  may  still  hope  to  receive. 

To  test  the  validity  of  the  common  belief,  Professor 
Tyndall  proposed  this  experiment.  Let  two  hospital 
wards  be  selected,  both  equally  light,  airy,  salubrious,  both 
in  general  respects,  equally  well  cared  for.  Let  the  one 
be  set  apart  for  patients  who  have  faith  in  the  healing 
power  of  prayer,  and  whose  friends  are  in  the  habit  of  of- 
fering prayer  in  their  behalf.  In  the  other,  let  there  be 
placed  people  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of  praying  or  being 
prayed  for,  but  who  rely  wholly  on  the  natural  means  of 
recovery.  Let  the  experiment  be  carefully  watched  for 
five  years.  The  result  will  show  Avhether  and  how  far 
prayer  may  be  counted  on  as  a  remedial  agent.  It  has 
been  doubted  whether  Professor  Tyndall  was  serious  in 
the  strange  plan  suggested.  If  he  was  not,  Mr.  Francis 
Galton,  who  seconded  him,  was.  The  public  understood 
him  seriously,  and  there  is  no  good  reason  for  thinking 
that  the  suggestion  was  made  in  other  than  perfectly  good 
faith.  Mr.  Tyndall  is  a  delicately  organized  man  of  sen- 
sitive feeling,  of  imaginative  poetic  mind,  tender  and  rev- 
erent. He  is  the  furthest  possible  from  a  Materialist ; 
rather  he  is  an  opponent  of  Materialism  ;  an  idealist  of  a 
fine  intellectual  type,  a  reader  of  Emerson,  and  to  some 
extent,  of  kindred  spirit  with  him.  His  desire  was  to  es- 
tablish a  fact,  nothing  more.  This  is  a  very  important 
matter.  If  the  popular  doctrine  is  justified  by  experience, 
it  is  well  that  all  men  should  know  it,  the  sick  and  the 
well,  patients  and  physicians,  infidels  and  believers.  If, 
on  the  other  hand  the  popular  doctrine  will  not  stand  the 
test  of  scientific  examination,  then  equally  important  re- 
sults will  follow  in  another  direction.     Mr.  Tyndall  prob- 


134  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PEA  TEE. 

ably  anticipated  no  objections  to  his  plan  from  either 
quarter;  none  from  the  unbelievers,  who  would  doubtless 
hail  such  a  trial  with  joy  as  establishing  their  faith  in  the 
unvarying  constancy  of  nature's  law ;  none  from  the  be- 
lievers, who  would  leap  to  the  proof  that  would  in  their 
judgment  surely  confound  the  infidel.  In  a  cause  so  mo- 
mentous as  this,  why  should  not  the  Lord  of  the  Church 
make  some  startling  disclosure  of  his  power,  as  In  the  days 
of  old  when  the  prophets  demanded  and  received  a  sign  ? 
The  reception  of  the  proposal  was  not  cordial.  The 
men  of  science  greeted  it  warmly ;  the  unbelievers  pro- 
fessed their  sense  of  its  fairness,  and  their  readiness  to 
abide  by  it ;  but  from  the  opposite  party  clamors  arose. 
Some  pronounced  the  plan  impious,  some  impertinent, 
some  heartless,  some  idle  and  chimerical ;  some  declared 
it  a  trick  on  the  part  of  the  infidels,  a  cunning  trap  laid 
to  bring  ridicule  on  faith.  But  among  the  multitude  of 
objections  three  were  valid  and  unanswerable.  It  was 
argued  that  the  experiment  would  be  fruitless  of  result, 
because  "  prayers  are  not  mere  utterances  in  the  vocative 
case  of  which  any  specimen  is  as  good  as  another,  but  vary 
in  proportion  to  the  depth  of  intensity  of  the  life  thrown 
into  them,  so  that  the  very  kind  of  prayers  by  which  Mr. 
Tyndall  would  test  his  case,  the  formulated  prayers  for 
classes  of  persons,  are  probably  those  which  partake  least 
of  the  spiritual  essence  of  prayer."  This  is  well  put  ; 
prayers  aimed  at  a  mark,  diplomatic  prayers,  said  for  a 
purpose — prayers  of  business,  as  it  were,  do  not  fall  with- 
in the  category  of  availing  petitions.  Again,  it  was  urged 
that  the  primary  condition  of  all  prayer  is  submission  to 
the  divine  will.  The  prayer  might  be  refused,  not  because 
God  could  not  answer  it,  but  because  He  did  not  see  fit, 
in  His  love  and  wisdom,  to  answer  it ;  so  that  the  failure 
of  the  experiment  would  establish  nothing  as  to  the  va- 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRATER.  135 

lidity  or  invalidity  of  the  prayer.  Another  weighty  and 
solid  objection  ;  there  is  a  third  party  to  be  consulted — 
God.  In  order  to  render  the  experiment  successful,  must 
not  His  disposition  towards  it  be  ascertained?  And  who 
was  to  obtain  that  information  1  If  prayer  was  a  me- 
chanical contrivance  that  worked  like  a  lever  or  pulley  ; 
if  every  earnest  intense  petitioner  were  sure  of  an  an- 
swer; if  there  were  no  reservations  on  the  part  of  the 
Father  of  Creation,  the  issue  might  be  accepted,  by  both 
sides,  with  confidence.  But  the  possibility  of  such  reser- 
vation takes  all  pith  out  of  the  negative  proof.  Again,  it 
was  suggested,  and  fairly  too,  that  the  experiment  to  be 
successful  must  conform  to  conditions  of  quite  impossible 
delicacy.  Suppose  that  the  patients  in  the  praying  ward, 
did  show  a  general  advantage  over  the  others  in  respect  of 
the  quickness  or  completeness  of  their  recovery ;  it  would 
still  remain  to  be  determined  how  much  of  this  effect  was 
due  to  prayer,  and  how  much  to  other  agencies,  strength 
of  constitution,  subtle  peculiarities  in  the  disease,  the  na- 
tural enhancement  and  exhilaration  of  the  animal  spirits 
under  the  excitement  of  hope  and  faith,  the  increased  in- 
fluence of  the  mind  over  the  body,  which  enthusiasm  and 
fanaticism  produce.  Our  instruments  are  not  yet  fine 
enough  to  detect  the  hidden  causes  that  conspire  to  build 
up  or  to  pull  down  the  human  frame.  The  science  of  sta- 
tistics is  as  yet  in  its  infancy.  It  deals  with  blunt  facts 
and  crude  averages.  The  only  valid,  induction  in  a  mat- 
ter like  this,  must  be  based  on  facts  collected  in  fields  in- 
accessible, sifted  by  methods  thus  far  undiscovered,  and 
collated  by  a  system  far  more  comprehensive  than  any  yet 
devised.  Statistics  cannot  penetrate  the  spiritual  region 
of  prayer,  or  define  the  precise  efficacy  of  prayer,  or  trace 
the  shadowy  boundaries  of  the  mind,  or  tell  what  powers 
hitherto    deemed    supernatural    are    stored   up  within  its 


136  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PEA  YEP. 

lines.  In  a  word,  the  experiment  proposed  cannot  be  con- 
ducted to  the  satisfaction  of  either  party  interested.  If 
no  answer  came  to  the  supplications  of  the  sufferers  or 
their  friends,  the  believers  in  prayer  would  allege  the 
want  of  earnestness  in  the  petitioners,  the  unwillingness 
of  the  Lord  to  enter  into  the  plan,  or  incompatibility  with 
the  divine  love  and  wisdom.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  an 
answer  came,  the  unbeliever  in  prayer  would  have  a  right 
to  say  that  the  result  was  brought  about  by  other  than 
supernatural  causes.  Unless  every  earnest  prayer  is  likely 
to  be  answered,  prayer  cannot  be  adopted  by  physicians 
in  the  regular  treatment  of  disease.  Unless  every  earnest 
prayer  be  flatly  refused,  the  priests  of  religion  will  urge 
people  to  seek  refuge  during  seasons  of  trouble  in  super- 
natural help. 

Professor  Tyndall's  suggestion,  therefore,  is  not  likely 
to  be  adopted.  It  has  been  valuable,  however,  as  creating 
discussion,  and  as  opening  once  more  in  a  practical  man- 
ner, a  question  of  the  deepest  spiritual  and  temporal 
moment,  a  mere  enumeration  of  the  bearings  whereof  on 
human  affairs  would  occupy  the  full  time  allowed  for  a 
discourse. 

The  real  question  at  issue  is  this :  Is  God,  or  is  He  not, 
an  individual  sentient  being,  a  maker,  ruler,  administra- 
tor, in  the  ordinary  sense  of  these  words?  If  lie  is,  the 
discussion  about  prayer  is  at  an  end.  Prayer  is  entirely 
admissible  under  that  supposition.  No  one  doubted  the 
literal  efficacy  of  prayer  before  this  belief  in  the  individ- 
ual creatine,  ruling,  guiding;  God  was  doubted.  Conceive 
of  Godas  mi  individual  being,  thinking,  forecasting,  pro- 
posing, planning,  governing  as  the  Czar  governs  Russia, 
superintending  as  an  engineer  superintends  the  machinery, 
of  a  steamship,  or  a  president  the  concerns  of  a  railroad 
company,  directing  as  Von  Moltke  directed  the  movements 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRA  YEP.  137 

of  the  German  army  from  Berlin,  evolving  and  working 
out  plans  as  He  goes  on,  holding  nations  in  His  hand  as 
the  first  Napoleon  held  cabinets  and  major-generals,  feel- 
ing personal  satisfaction  and  dissatisfaction  with  the  doings 
of  human  creatures ;  conceive  of  God  thus,  and  there  is 
no  difficulty  in  accepting  without  the  least  reserve  the 
popular  theory  of  prayer.  The  whole  doctrine  follows, 
for  such  a  being,  sitting  apart  in  the  focus  of  the  world's 
whispering  gallery,  where  the  faintest  sigh  reaches  His  ear, 
with  His  hand  on  the  springs  that  set  in  motion  the  enor- 
mous machinery  of  His  creation,  and  effect  in  obedience 
to  His  will  all  the  possible  combinations  of  force,  sending 
electric  thrills  along  the  throbbing  nerves  of  law,  bring- 
ing the  currents  of  power  to  bear  on  the  most  sensitive 
points,  and  at  His  discretion  starting  fresh  centres  of 
energy  into  life — such  a  being,  I  say,  omniscient,  omnipo- 
tent, playing  on  His  universe  as  a  master  in  music  phvys 
on  his  organ,  could,  without  straining  a  cord  or  starting  a 
rivet,  snapping  a  fibre  or  tangling  a  thread,  respond  to  the 
special  needs  of  His  children  and  meet  their  requests. 
Why  should  He  not  give  literal  answers  to  prayers  for 
external  things  ?  Why  should  he  not  answer  prayers  fur 
life,  success,  prosperity,  victory,  health,  and  wealth  ?  Not 
all  prayers,  for  that  would  be  inconsistent  with  a  wise 
order  in  the  regulation  of  the  world,  and  with  consider- 
ate kindness  towards  people  who  pray  ignorantly  and  to 
their  hurt ;  not  idle,  petulant,  or  passionate  prayers,  fur 
they  are  nut  entitled  to  respect  ;  not  the  conflicting  prayers 
of  men  who  clamor  for  opposite  things;  not  the  short- 
sighted, selfish  prayers  of  men  who  want  to  engage  the 
heavenly  powers  in  the  interest  of  their  petty  schemes  for 
place  or  gain  ;  but  such  prayers  as  voice  a  human  and  gene- 
ral need.  Such  a  being  might,  for  instance,  refuse  peti- 
tions for  rain  hundreds,  nay,  thousands  of  times,  because 


138  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PEA  TEH. 

He  could  not  grant  to  one  what  would  injure  another; 
but  can  we  not  imagine  a  contingency,  a  case  of  very  pro- 
tracted and  general  drought,  when,  under  heavens  of  brass, 
on  an  earth  of  ashes,  men  pined  and  nature  fainted,  a 
time  when  every  throbbing  brain  and  every  panting  heart 
and  every  thirsty  soul  cried  out  with  one  great  burst  of 
agonized  accord  for  rain,  rain,  till  the  multitudinous  wishes 
made  the  spiritual  air  quiver ;  a  time  when  every  living 
and  dying  thing  should  call  for  one  boon  ?  And  why 
should  not  such  a  prayer  be  respected  ?  Why  should  not 
the  atmospheric  conditions  be  supplied  and  the  laws  of 
nature  be  silently  shifted  for  nature's  benefit  ? 

Or  can  we  not  imagine  a  state  of  war  between  two  sec- 
tions or  nations,  the  issue  of  which  involves  the  gravest  con- 
cerns of  human  civilization,  the  emancipation,  we  will  say, 
of  a  whole  race,  or  the  overthrow  of  some  dark  barbaric 
despotism,  or  the  destruction  of  an  empire  founded  on  fraud 
and  violence,  sustained  by  chicanery,  sensual  in  its  dispo- 
sition, and  demoralizing  in  its  influence?  Can  we  not 
imagine  such  a  state,  as  would  render  natural  and  proper 
the  interposition  of  the  world's  ruler,  in  response  to  such 
eager  solicitation  from  the  nobler  combatants  as  prov<  d 
that  they  were  heart  and  soul  enlisted  in  the  cause  of  hu- 
manity, and  were  altogether  worthy  to  be  entrusted  with 
civilization's  holiest  interests  ? 

Or  again,  can  we  not  imagine  such  a  God  as  I  have  de- 
scribed, and  as  Christendom  believes  in,  arranging  the 
sanitary  agencies  with  a  view  to  the  special  benefit  of 
some  precious  person  whose  life  or  safety  is  unspeakably 
dear  to  society?  Can  we  not  think  of  Him  as  sendingHis 
messengers,  air  and  light,  to  exhilarate  the  nervous  system, 
quicken  the  flow  of  blood,  and  all  in  answer  to  the  intense 
wish  of  many  who  feel  that  in  that  life  their  own  deepest 
interests  are  bound  up  ?     Such  a  thing  might  occur  but 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PEA  YER.  1 39 

seldom;  but  it  might  occur,  and  its  occurrence  would  fur- 
nish ground  for  such  interposition  as  the  Christian  world 
expects  in  answer  to  fervent,  unselfish  prayer.  Thus  we 
should  concede  at  once  the  whole  case,  and  accept  with- 
out cavil  the  'arguments  of  theologians,  the  testimony  of 
pious  men  and  women,  the  solemn  averments  of  those 
who  declare  that  within  their  own  experience  prayers  have 
been  answered.  And  why  not?  Wlvy  not  consent  to 
allow  the  controlling  force  of  prayer  as  an  agency  in  the 
administration  of  human  affairs — an  agency  not  to  be  con- 
fidently reckoned  on  for  special  occasions,  not  an  organ- 
ized agency,  but  still  an  agency  on  which  men  in  solemn 
emergencies  may  rely  ? 

Because,  I  reply,  the  conception  of  God,  on  which  the 
whole  theory  hangs,  is  one  that  it  is  becoming  more  and 
more  difficult  to  hold  against  the  assaults  of  ripening 
knowledge  and  maturing  thought.  Men,  who,  as  was  the 
case  of  the  Bible  folks,  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the 
world  they  lived  in,  had  no  proper  method  of  investigation, 
never  heard  of  a  natural  law,  never  traced  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect  to  the  most  inconsiderable  distance,  never 
traveled,  never  studied,  never  explored,  held  the  crudest,  the 
most  child-like  beliefs  in  regard  to  the  commonest  pheno- 
mena of  the  natural  world,  were  absolutely  without  what 
we  call  science  or  knowledge  of  anything  in  heaven  or 
earth,  could  easily  imagine  to  themselves  a  huge  being  like 
a  man,  presiding  over  the  world  of  matter  and  of  mind. 
As  men  become  acquainted  with  their  globe,  with  its  his- 
tory, its  formation,  its  elements,  to  imagine  such  a  being  as 
ruling  over  it  day  by  day,  forming  its  floods,  scooping  out 
its  sea  basins,  balancing  its  continents,  mingling  its  tribes, 
administerino-  the  economies  of  its  animal  and  vegetable 
kingdoms,  working,  as  by  secret  wires,  the  endless  com- 
plexities  of    its   organization,  holding   its  myriad    parts 


140  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRA  TEE. 

together  and  giving  a  distinct  thought  to  each,  becomes 
exceedingly  difficult — so  difficult,  indeed,  that  they  who 
apprehend  the  problem  profess  themselves  unable  to  form 
any  clear  image  of  the  divine  mind.  The  planet  we  live 
on  is  so  full  of  fibres,  its  parts  are  so  intertwined,  inter- 
linked, interlaced,  its  elements  cross  and  mingle  in  such 
intricate  webs,  that  there  is  no  posterior  door  or  crack  by 
which  a  foreign  will  can  enter.  It  is  already  a  compact 
creation  of  mind — a  perfect  flower  of  intelligence. 

Cut  we  are  still  on  the  threshold  of  our  difficulty.  This 
planet  is  but  a  speck  in  the  solar  system,  which  is  still  in- 
cluded in  the  same  network  of  law  that  holds  the  globe 
together.  And,  beyond  the  solar  system,  other  systems 
unfold  their  blazing  sheets  of  glory,  till  human  calculation 
despairs  of  conjecturing  their  limits;  and  all  these  systems 
roll  and  revolve  in  obedience  to  the  same  rules  of  order  and 
harmony  that  preside  over  the  dance  of  the  autumn  leaves, 
when  the  wind  strips  them  from  the  trees  and  whirls  them 
abroad.  The  conception  of  the  individual  God  becomes 
now  absolutely  impossible.  All  our  ideas  of  mind  are  con- 
founded. What  sort  of  intelligence  is  it  that  can  think  in 
an  instant  and  at  once  all  these  myriads  of  myriads  of 
thoughts,  and  then  has  myriads  on  myriads  of  thoughts  to 
spare  \  What  sort  of  intelligence  is  it  that,  having  organ- 
ized itself  in  perfect  worlds  and  systems  of  worlds  without 
number,  is  able  to  give  special  care  to  every  particle,  to 
supplement  its  own  complete  expression,  to  improve  its 
own  finished  work,  to  mend,  modify,  alter,  recombine,  re- 
adjust its  own  wonderful  combinations?  What  sort  of  an 
intelligence  that,  having  packed  a  thousand  universes  with 
living  purposes,  has  still  more  exact  and  living  purposes  in 
store  ;  having  given  every  conceivable  and  inconceivable 
expression  to  its  beneficent  intention,  has  yet  whole  reser- 
voirs of  intention  that  have  not  yet  been  drawn  upon? 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRA  TEB.  m 

But  even  yet  we  have  not  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
abyss  of  perplexity.  For  we  find  that  every  point  of  the 
mental  and  moral  universe  is  pervaded  by  compact  laws  of 
its  own,  and  is  possessed  of  inveterate  habits;  is,  as  it 
were,  a  woven  web  of  will,  a  seamless  coat  of  purpose. 
Every  inch  of  ground  as  far  as  we  can  fancy,  as  far  as  we 
can  dream,  as  far  as  we  can  fling  our  most  audacious  con- 
jecture, is  filled  and  preoccupied,  crammed  with  cause  and 
effect,  antecedents  and  consequents,  filled  till  the  most 
ethereal  ether  is  a  tissue  of  gauzy  life — a  film  of  feeling  so 
thin  that  you  cannot  seize  it,  so  tough  that  you  cannot  tear 
it.  The  very  Fullness  is  full !  The  pleroma  overflows ! 
What  becomes  now  of  the  Hebrew  Jehovah,  of  the  Chris- 
tian Father  in  heaven  ?  Unless  this  palpitating  universe 
be  He,  lie  is  past  finding  out. 

Clearly  no  prayers  can  be  expected  to  extract  another 
wish  or  thought  or  expression  of  feeling  from  a  Being  who 
is  beyond  all  these  lines,  and  who  has  put  these  thrilling 
worlds  between  Himself  and  His  creatures,  piled  these  Os- 
sas  on  these  Pelions  of  intention,  and  fairly  exhausted  the 
possibilities  of  care  in  what  is  already  provided.  He  who 
begins  to  see  how  much  he  has,  cannot  in  conscience  ask 
for  more.  To  lyive  the  smallest  appreciation  of  the 
wealth  of  the  supply  is  to  see  reason  sufficient  for  being 
dumb. 

And  so  we  find  what  we  should  expect  to  find,  a  decline 
of  prayer  with  an  increase  of  knowledge.  As  people  un- 
derstand meteorology  and  climatology,  they  perceive  the 
uselessness  of  prayer  for  rain.  As  they  understand  the 
strict  connection  between  the  harvest  and  the  seasons,  they 
cease  to  pray  for  good  crops.  As  they  understand  the  inti- 
mate dependence  of  human  health  on  sanitary  precautions, 
they  abate  the  fervency  of  their  petitions  for  long  and 
wholesome  life.     As  they  understand  the  necessary  affili- 


142  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRATER. 

ation  of  the  physiological  and  the  psychological  laws,  their 
prayers  for  an  amiable  temper  and  a  kind  heart  become 
weak  and  infrequent. 

A  visit  to  the  office  in  "Washington,  where  the  clerk  of 
the  weather  sits  with  his  subordinates  about  him,  catching 
the  whispers  of  the  wind  from  the  four  quarters  of  the 
heaven,  counting  the  rain-drops  that  fall  on  a  continent, 
weighing  the  atmosphere  from  sea  to  sea  and  from  lake  to 
gulf,  and  making  these  flying,  illusive  witnesses  tell  whether 
it  will  be  wise  for  people  in  New  York  or  San  Francisco 
to  take  umbrellas  down  town  with  them  the  next  day,  will 
satisfy  the  most-devout  mind  that  supplication  for  a  sud- 
den supply  or  cessation  of  showers  will  be  ineffectual. 

A  visit  to  the  Bureau  of  Vital  Statistics,  where  the  cur- 
rents of  disease  are  traced  in  their  flow  over  large  reaches 
of  territory,  and  the  private  correspondence  between  sanity 
and  sewerage,  death  and  dirt,  fever  and  fetor,  cholera  and 
uncleanliness,  is  established  with  the  nicety  of  mathemat- 
ics, will  convince  the  saint  that  the  death-rate  is  not  likely 
to  be  modified  considerably  by  the  most  fervent  utterance 
of  desire  Godward. 

The  prayer  for  fresh  accessions  of  temperance,  honesty, 
peacefulness,  sinks  into  silence  before  the  fact  that  vices 
and  crimes  too  obey  their  laws ;  that  outbreaks  of  moral 
distemper  accompany  changes  in  the  money  market;  that 
social  morality  follows  the  line  of  national  prosperity 
which  rises  and  falls  with  the  fluctuations  of  the  seasons; 
that  social  disorders  have  their  method  ;  that  sins  can  be 
reduced  to  an  average ;  that  a  skilful  actuary  will,  from 
given  data,  compute  with  much  accuracy  the  probable 
number  of  murders  and  suicides  for  the  next  twelvemonth, 
vice  and  virtue  not  being  gifts  dependent  on  the  favor  of  a 
benefactor,  but  qualities  wrought  into  the  texture  of  the 
world,  to  be  had  by  fulfilling  the  conditions,  not  otherwise. 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRAYER.  143 

The  Bible  encourages  prayer  for  faith.  But  we  all  know 
that  infidelity,  like  vice,  has  its  causes,  which  must  be  re- 
moved before  it  will  disappear.  The  "  Age  of  Keason  " 
in  France,  with  its  appalling  excesses,  was  no  inspiration 
of  the  devil,  but  an  inevitable  result  of  the  abominations 
of  the  Church,  which  were  again  an  inevitable  result  of  the 
abominations  of  the  State,  which  again  were  an  inevitable 
result  of  an  ancient  but  outworn  theory  of  the  rights  of 
kings. 

Prayer  is  thus  seen  to  be  out  of  place,  because  every 
possible  effect  of  prayer  is  guaranteed  without  it.  Prayer 
is  inoperative,  because  it  is  unnecessary.  For  every  prayer 
that  reasonable  mortals  can  make  an  answer  is  already  pro- 
vided ;  answers  to  prayer  being  worked  into  the  substance 
of  life.  The  compact  universe,  in  fact,  is  an  organized 
response  to  the  supplications  of  men  ;  an  inexhaustible  store- 
house of  adaptations,  the  key  whereof  is  placed  in  every 
creature's  hand.  The  perfect  being  could  not  reply  to 
human  beseeching  more  sufficiently  than  lie  has  done 
already.  He  has  even  anticipated  petition,  knowing  what 
things  His  children  had  need  of  before  they  asked  Him, 
and  furnishing  them  centuries  long  in  advance,  with  every 
imaginable  means  of  satisfaction.  They  fancy  their  peti- 
tions are  answered  directly  by  Him  when  they  draw  on 
some  hitherto  undiscovered  treasury,  that  had  always  lain 
hidden  at  their  feet ;  they  fancy  that  He  has  just  begun 
to  speak  because  they  have  just  begun  to  listen. 

Does  this  view  of  the  question  seem  chilling  and  repul- 
sive? Then  let  me,  in  conclusion,  add  a  few  words  that 
may  help  to  remove  or  correct  such  an  impression.  No 
long  argument  is  required  to  show  that  the  view  taken  of 
prayer  and  the  God  of  prayer  is  really  more  conducive  to 
mental  and  moral  health  than  the  popular  view  which  it 
displaces. 


141  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PEA  YEP. 

I.  In  regard  to  the  material  condition  of  mankind. 
This  depends,  all  "will  allow,  mainly,  if  not  wholly,  on 
human  effort.  An  indolent  society  will  never  he  a  pros- 
perous one  ;  no  estate  was  ever  improved  by  heedlessness 
or  neglect.  Progress  in  material  respects  keeps  pace  with 
energy,  knowledge,  purpose,  and  these  increase  with  the 
necessity  for  them.  To  augment  these  qualities,  therefore, 
to  stimulate  the  physical,  mental  and  moral  activities  to 
their  full  normal  pitch,  is  a  matter  of  prime  importance 
to  civilization.  The  truth  is  forced  on  us  by  all  observa- 
tion, that  the  first  requisite  of  improvement  is  a  convic- 
tion that  man  is  master  of  his  fate.  If  he  wants  a  fort  he 
must  build  a  fort.  Every  social  problem  brings  this  truth 
h<une  to  us.  It  is  the  incessant  cry  of  merchant,  financier, 
politician,  reformer,  that  matters  will  be  no  better  till 
men  take  the  trouble  to  make  them  better.  Like  Cortez, 
wo  must  burn  our  vessels  behind  us,  and  so  shut  ourselves 
up  with  our  work,  if  we  expect  to  be  conquerors. 

Now,  which  belief  is  most  stimulating  to  activity;  the 
belief  that  God  will  answer  our  prayers,  or  that  we  must 
answer  them  ourselves?  A  broad  survey  of  the  expe- 
rience of  mankind  scarcely  leaves  room  to  doubt  that  the 
latter  faith  is  the  more  quickening.  Earnest  individuals 
no  doubt,  feel  that  their  mental  and  moral  energies  are 
quickened  and  exalted  by  prayer.  But  the  experience  of 
earnest  individuals  is  not  in  point  here.  We  are  consider- 
ing the  effect  of  the  belief  in  prayer  on  the  great  masses 
of  mankind  ;  and  observing  these  it  is  evident  that  people 
are  only  too  willing  to  let  another  do  their  work,  and 
when  that  other  is  the  omnipotent  God,  the  complacency 
with  which  they  will  drop  their  tools  is  qnite  intelligible. 
If  in  great  exigencies,  prayer  will  serve  instead  el"  labor, 
great  exigencies  will  not  be  provided  for,  and  there  will 
be  the  most  inadequate  equipment  for  the  most  momen- 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PBA  YER  145 

tous  crises.  "What  would  become  of  medicine  if  prayer 
could  be  relied  on  to  heal  the  sick  ?  Where  would  be  the 
Boards  of  Health  if  prayer  could  baffle  infectious  diseases  ? 
Would  Social  Science  have  the  faintest  chance  if  prayer 
could  alleviate  pauperism,  promote  co-operation,  or  dimin- 
ish crime  %  Should  we  ever  make' improvements  in  naval 
•architecture  if  prayer  would  protect  us  from  the  perils  of  the 
deep  %  Or  keep  night  watches  in  behalf  of  virtue,  if  prayer 
would  recover  the  Magdalene,  arrest  the  burglar,  or  quench 
the  incendiary's  spark  %  Nothing  endeavor,  nothing  have, 
is  the  rule  of  life.  For  all  we  get  we  must  pay  full- price 
in  toil,  thought,  and  care.  Our  whole  power  of  wishing  must 
go  into  eyes  and  ears  and  finger  ends ;  not  an  emotion  must 
run  to  waste.  When  we  see  people  praying  against 
potato  rot  and  cattle  plague,  "yellow  fever  and  cholera, 
with  their  lips  .instead  of  their  brains,  we  see  an  example 
of  that  wof  ul  misapplication  of  means  to  ends,  by  which 
the  vast  misery  of  the  world  is  accounted  for.  When  we 
hear  them  praying  against  unbelief,  infidelity,  indifference, 
worldliness,  instead  of  combating  them  with  knowledge, 
we  see  plainly  enough  why  such  things  prevaih  Let  men 
be  satisfied  to  accept  the  answers  already  given  to  those 
who  will  take  the  trouble  to  look  for  them  in  the  proper , 
place,  and  they  will  be  found  sufficient. 

Civilization,  with  all  its  accompaniments,  is  found  to 
have  kept  even  pace  with  the  decline  of  prayer ;  not  with 
the  decline  of  earnestness,  ambition,  aspiration,  longing 
after  higher  and  better  things,  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness,  but  of  praye?\  which  provides  what  the 
uneducated  suppose,  and  will  always  suppose,  to  be  a 
special  dispensation  from  these  purely  human  qualifica- 
tions. I  am  aware  that  this '  statement  will  be  gravely 
questioned ;  but  it  will  appear  I  am  persuaded  on  examina- 
tion, that  they  who  question  it  are  not,  as  a  class,  eminent 

7 


146  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRA  YEE. 

promoters  of  civilization,  or  hearty  friends  of  it.  They 
are  mainly  churchmen,  who,  if  they  have  an  ideal  of 
society  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term,,  borrow  it  from 
the  book  of  Daniel  or  the  Apocalypse.  For  the  estab- 
lishment of  their  "  kingdom  of  heaven  "  they  naturally 
look  to  prayer,  no  other  sources  furnishing  the  needed 
supply  of  power.  __  What  they  desire  and  anticipate  must 
come  supernaturally,  if  at  all,  and  their  faith  in  the  super- 
natural will  of  course  correspond  to  the  eagerness  of  their 
desire.  But  they  who  desire  a  better  physical  and  social 
state  will  find  the  materials  for  it  not  in  the  outlying 
spaces  of  possibility  beyond  the  organized  universe,  but  in. 
the  organized  universe  itself,  and  in  themselves  as  the 
crowning  portion  of  it. 

II.  But  this  belief,  it  is  urged,  falls  coldly  on  the  heart ; 
it  chills  feeling ;  it  freezes  emotion  ;  the  spiritual  nature 
cannot  inhale  this  rarefied  air,  but,  abandoned  in  a  wilder- 
ness of  uses,  it  gasps  and  dies.  Not,  I  think,  when  the 
view  of  the  truth  is  clear.  What  the  mind  needs  is  bal- 
'ance,  poise,  serenity,  the  sense  of  rest  in  infinite  powers, 
of  repose  on  divine  realities.  It  is  the  highest  office  of 
prayer  to  console  and  tranquil ize  the  mind  so  that  its  waves 
of  passion  will  subside  on  the  bosom  of  the  eternal  deep. 

The  eternal  deep  is  the  necessity,  not  the  voice  from  it. 
And  the  eternal  deep  is  not  abolished.  It  is  there  still, 
where  it  was,  and  more  crowded  than  ever  with  living 
forms.  Devout  persons  say :  we  must  have  a  God  to  fly 
to.  But  is  it  not  as  well  to  have  a  God  who  may  be  reach- 
ed without  flying — who  besets  us  behind  and  before  in 
life's  inexorable  conditions,  who  lays  His  hand  upon  us 
every  moment  in  some  nice  adaptation  to  our  mortal  ne- 
cessities, whose  sensorium  is  the  universe  itself  ? 

An  unutterable  peace  steals  over  the  spirit  as  one  sit- 
ting on  a  rock  gazes  out  on  the  ocean,  listens  to  the  prattle 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PRA  YER.  147 

of  the  sunny  wavelets  on  the  beach,  to  the  mellow  chant 
of  the  breakers  on  the  cliffs,  watches  the  flight  of  the  sea- 
birds,  the  silent  passing  to  and  fro  of  ships,  the  streaks  of 
color  on  the  surface  of  the  expanse,  the  patient  rising  and 
falling  of  the  tide.  To  look  down  from  a  green  slope  upon 
a  wide  landscape  with  houses  and  cattle  and  the  varied 
farm-life  is  composing  to  the  feelings.  A  deep,  strange, 
undeiinable  sense  of  quiet  comes  from  the  feeling  of  sym- 
pathy with  such  spacious  realms  of  life,  the  mingled  silence 
and  noise,  the  combination  of  complete  solitude  with  a 
vast  and  active  fellowship.  We  are  not  addressed,  yet  a 
hundred  voices  seem  to  be  speaking  to  us.  We  say  nothing, 
yet  are  holding  inaudible  converse  with  something  behind 
the  winged  creatures,. and  the  four-footed  cattle,  and  the 
toiling  men.  There  is  an  interchange  of  sentiment.  Our 
petulance  and  conceit  flow  out,  the  vast  peace  of  the  whole 
steals  in  ;  we  are  comforted  'unawares,  and  with  calmer 
spirit  return  to  our  duty. 

Could  we,  in  the  same  way,  from  the  hill-top  of  medita- 
tion, or  the  slope  of  reverie,  look  out  on  the  world  of 
divine  order  and  harmony,  put  ourselves  in  loving  com- 
munication with  the  perfect  system  of  which  we  form  a 
part,  feast  on  its  beauty,  admire  its  grandeur,  wonder  at 
its  immensity,  gather  about  us  thoughts  of  its  beneficence, 
brace  ourselves  against  its  immovable  pillars  of  law,  the 
same  effects  would  ensue,  though  in  much  higher  de- 
gree— calmness  and  strength  would  take  possession  of  the 
breast ;  there  would  be  no  prayer,  for  the  answer  would 
come  before  the  prayer  was  offered ;  the  stroke  of  cala- 
mity would  be  prevented  from  crushing,  the  cloud  would 
pass  away  from  the  spirit,  suffering  would  lose  its  sting, 
sorrow  its  dumb  pain,  the  will  would  recover  its  compo- 
sure, conscience  its  serenity,  the  lurking  shapes  of  fear  and 
sin  would  vanish. 


148  THE  SCIENTIFIC  ASPECT  OF  PEA  TEE. 

It  is  quite  possible  so  to  cultivate  the  habit  of  medita- 
tion that  communion  Avith  these  grand  thoughts  will  be 
verily  communion  with  intellectual  being — sentiment  will 
answer  sentiment,  feeling  will  respond  to  feeling,  the  soul 
of  order  and  harmony  will  melt  into  the  soul  of  their 
worshipper ;  there  will  be  patience  in  the  slowly-unfold- 
ing processes,  pity  in  the  gentle  forbearing  powers,  pardon- 
ing mercy  in  the  beneficent  forces  that  hide  ugliness  and 
evil  away ;  longing  is  met  and  aspiration  is  encouraged,  and 
faith  reposes  trustfully  on  the  bosom  of  an  enworlded 
deity.  Everything  that  prayer  gives  to  the  pure  devotee, 
this  rapt  contemplation  gives  to  the  worshipper.  He  is 
made  partaker  of  creation's  inmost  life.  His  heart  is  in 
unison  with  the  universal  heart. 

All  prayer  resolves  itself  into  one  petition  :  Thy  will  be 
done  !  They  who  discover  and  acknowledge  that  the  world 
•they  live  in  is  the  complete  embodiment  of  the  perfect 
will,  are  they  who  most  habitually  and  feelingly  offer  that 
pure  petition  ; — theirs  is  the  living  piety,  for  theirs  is  the 
living  God,  and  the  living  communion  with  Him. 


IX. 
THE  NAKED  TKUTH. 

TAKE  as  a  text  this  morning  some  remarkable 
-*-  words  of  Paul  in  his  second  letter  to  the  Corinthians. 
Speaking  of  the  spiritual  man,  he  says :  "  For  we  know 
that  if  our  fleshly  tabernacle  were  dissolved  we  have  a 
divine  structure,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal, 
heavenly.  Earnestly  we.  desire  to  be  clothed  upon  with 
our  heavenly  frame,  so  that  being  thus  clothed  we  shall 
not  be  found  naked  ;  we  would  not  be  unclothed  but 
clothed  upon,  that  mortality  may  be  swallowed  up  in 
life." 

There  is  a  common  phrase  taken  originally  from  Shakes- 
peare—  the  "Naked  Truth."  It  is  used  as  descriptive  of 
the  simple,  pure,  unadulterated  truth,  the  final  absolute 
truth.  The  method  of  arriving  at  it  is  to  strip  off  what 
are  called  its  disguises,  whether  foul  or  fair,  and  get  as 
near  as  possible  to  the  bare  skeleton  of  literal  fact.  Analy- 
sis is  the  method ;  the  scalpel  is  the  instrument.  The 
same  rule  applied  to  ordinary  every-day  knowledge  would 
lead  to  odd  results.  What  if  one  were  to  seek  the  naked 
truth  respecting  an  apple-tree  by  digging  down  into  its 
roots,  or  of  an  oak  by  pulling  to  pieces  an  acorn !  Suppose 
that  to  discover  the  naked  truth  respecting  a  harvest-field, 
a 'man  of  science,  instead  of  visiting  the  barns  where  the. 
product  is  stored,  were  to  pull  up  the  stubble  and  dissect 
the  underground  fibres  !    To  learn  the  truth  about  a  grape- 


150  TEE  NAKED  TRUTH. 

vine,  we  weigh  its  clusters  and  taste  their  juice ;  to  learn 
the  truth  about  an  orangery,  we  count  and  suck  the 
oranges.-  We  speak  of  the  "  naked  eye."  The  naked  eye 
is  the  eye  unaided  by  artificial  lenses,  the  eye  unassisted 
by  telescope  or  microscope,  the  natural  eye.  But  have 
not  these  fine  instruments  by  which  the  power  of  the  eye 
is  augmented  become  a  part  of  it?  Do  they  not  invest  or 
clothe  the  organ  with  new  attributes  ?  Do  these  instru- 
ments impoverish  the  eye  or  enrich  it  ?  Is  vision  increased 
by  them  or  diminished  ?  Certainly  it  is  increased ;  these 
contrivances  supplement  the  organ,  make  it  more  sensitive 
to  the  sunbeam,  enable  it  to  comply  more  fully  with  the 
laws  of  light.  Fancy  the  telescope  and  microscope  abol- 
ished, and  none  but  "naked"  eyes  left  to  mankind, 
should  we  be  nearer  the  truth  about  the  eye  than  we  are 
at  present?  Would  the  disappearance  of  astronomy  on 
the  one  hand  and  of  physiolog}'  on  the  other,  the  vanish- 
ing of  the  infinitely  great  and  of  the  infinitely  little,  add 
to  our  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  vision  ?  The  natural 
organ  is  the  basis  on  which  the  noble  science  of  optics 
builds.  It  is  most  truly  itself  when  it  is  clothed  upon  by 
its  heavenly  house. 

Nature  abhors  the  naked  truth  and  always  clothes  it 
when  she  can.  She  loves  the  garment  of  tender  verdure, 
the  investiture  of  roses  and  lilies,  the  splendor  of  forests. 
She  is  fond  of  presenting  herself  in  state.  Where  will 
you  find  an  unclothed  rock  or  stone?  Not  in,  forest  or 
field  ;  perhaps  in  some  wilderness  of  sand,  as  in  Africa  or 
Arabia,  where  the  winds  blow  the  seeds  of  verdure  away, 
or  the  scorching  sunbeams  dry  them  up.  Travellers  across 
our  continent  describe  rocks  cut  and  polished  by  wind  and 
sand,  on  whose  smooth  surfaces  the  most  tenacious  plant 
has  no  chance  to  maintain  its  hold.  But  wherever  else 
you  find  a  stone,  laj-ge  or  small,  it  is  covered  with  the  fine 


THE  NAKED  TRUTH.  151 

lace-work  of  the  lichen,  which  is  the  beginning  of  vege- 
tation, so  fine  that  only  keen  eyes  can  see  its  tracery ;  atop 
of  this  is  laid  the  soft  mantle  of  moss,  tender  and  green, 
with  its  pretty  flowers  and  its  wonderful  imitations  of 
forest  growths ;  as  if  this  were  not  enough,  thick  layers  of 
soil  are  added,  a  still  richer  clothing  for  the  skeleton  ; 
shrubbery  of  many  kinds  makes  the  concealment  more  ef- 
fectual still,  and  at  last  the  pine,  the  ash,  and  the  oak, 
glorify  the  whole.  The  whole  is  nature's  product,  and  as 
a  whole  it  must  be  studied.  To  learn  the  naked  truth 
about  the  rock  that  serves  as  a  base  to  the  forest  or  the 
grain-field,  this  magnificent  mass  of  integument  must  be 
taken  off,  the  unclothed  stone  must  be  disclosed ;  but  to 
learn  the  full  truth  about  the  region,  every  stage  of  natural 
growth  must  be  noted.  Nature  is  impatient  of  naked- 
ness. A  great  writer  standing  before  a  nude  statue  in  the 
workshop  of  a  modern  sculptor  in  Rome,  expresses  the 
opinion  that  the  day  of  such  work  is  gone  by.  It  was  well 
enough  for  the  Greeks  to  make  nude  statues  of  men  and 
women,  calling  them  gods  and  goddesses ;  the  ancient  men 
of  Greece  wore  little  drapery,  lived  much  in  the  open  air, 
and  were  frequently,  in  the  gymnasium  or  at  the  public 
games,  stripped  of  their  garments.  But  the  modern  man 
is  always  clothed  :  his  clothes  are  part  of  himself;  he  is 
known  by  his  clothes ;  they  express  his  sense  of  beauty, 
fitness,  propriety;  they  convey  his  individuality;  they 
present  him;  we  do  not  know  him  without  them.  The 
great  painters  made  much  account  of  the  costume  of  their 
subjects,  the  satin,  velvet,  fur,  even  the  jewels  in  ring  and 
brooch  which  were  sparkles  from  the  inward  character. 
To  learn  the  naked  truth  about  a  man,  one  would  hardly 
think  it  wise  to  wait  till  he  was  dead,  and  we  could  obtain 
his  skeleton  ;  one  might  wait  till  he  was  dead,  but  in  order 
to  get  as  far  away  from  the  skeleton  as  possible,  in  order 


152  THE  NAKED  TRUTH. 

to  gather  up  all  tliat  had  grown  about  the  man  in  the 
course  of  his  life,  and  so  to  bring  out  the  full  personality, 
the  accumulated  results  of  a  lifetime  are  important  as  ex- 
hibitions of  character.     The  exterior  clothes  the  interior. 

The  point  I  aim  at  establishing  is  this :  The  naked  truth 
is  not  the  pure  truth,  but  the  rudimental  truth.  Mr.  Dar- 
win undertakes  to  prove  that  the  progenitor  of  man  was 
the  ape.  Let  us  concede  the  sufficiency  of  his  proof.  That, 
let  us  admit,  is  the  naked  truth  respecting  the  animal  we 
call  man.  There  was  a  time  when  his  ancestors  possessed 
caudal  extremities  and  perched  in  trees,  travelling  .over 
the  ground  when  they  had  occasion,  with  bodies  prone, 
and  grubbing  roots  out  of  the  soil.  But  that  was,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Darwin,  many  thousands  of  years  ago.  To  get 
at  his  aboriginal  naked  progenitor,  he  digs  down  through 
layer  on  layer  of  humanity  the  depth  of  all  those  ages, 
peeling  off  accretions  without  number.  There  at  the"  bot- 
tom is  the  naked  truth.  But  a  great  many  things  have 
happened  since  then.  The  ape  has  become  a  very  differ- 
ent creature,  so  different  that  it  is  only  at  moments  and  in 
rare  cases  that  the  consanguinity  is  suspected  between  him 
and  the  human  race.  lie  stands  on  two  feet  now,  erect, 
with  upright  spine  and  trunk,  the  spine  a  column  and  not 
a  horizontal  conduit  for  transmitting  sensations,  and  that 
change  alone  indicates  and  makes  a  new  creature.  Every 
physical  organ,  from  highest  to  lowest,  acquires  a  different 
relative  position,  and  with  that,  new  expansion  and  in- 
creased function  ;  the  arms  and  hands  are  freed  for  use  ; 
the  claws  become  fingers,  endowed  with  nerves  of  exquisite 
sensibility.  The  head  is  newly  poised,  and  in  consequence 
is  rendered  capable  of  new  motions.  Its  shape  alters  by 
virtue  of  its  erect  position  ;  the  features  become  handsome  ; 
the  countenance,  no  longer  kept  down  near  the  earth  with 
back-head  upwards  but  raised  to  meet  the  light  that  streams 


THE  NAKED  TRUTH.  153 

from  above,  falls  into  harmonious  proportions ;  the  brow 
expands ;  the  dome  of  the  skull  rounds  grandly  out ;  the 
intellectual  part  predominates  over  the  animal,  and  varied 
expressions  of  feeling  play  over  the  formerly  impassivre 
and  imperturbable  surface.  The  vital  centres  draw  sus- 
tenance from  fresh  sources  ;  the  influences  of  air  and  light 
tell  on  the  frame  with  greatly  augmented  force  ;  instead 
of  crouching  low  down  to  the  earth,  the  vital  parts  hidden 
by  the  mass  of  the  trunk,  its  eyes  searching  the  ground, 
the  creature  moves  through  higher  strata  of  atmosphere. 
The  entire  body  has  an  equal  chance  at  the  quickening 
powers,  the  eye  sweeps  the  horizon,  the  uplifted  forehead 
is  bathed  in  the  upper  air ;  the  firmament  is  revealed ;  the 
look  pierces  the  celestial  spaces  ;  the  all-covering  heavens 
drop  their  grandeur  upon  the  creature ;  the  direct  ray 
strikes  the  level  vision ;  the  brain  swells,  its  substance  ac- 
quires finer  texture,  its  convolutions  multiply  ;  it  becomes 
an  organ  of  intelligence,  sensitive  to  impressions  incon- 
ceivably more  numerous  and  inconceivably  more  delicate 
than  the  maturest  ape  catches ;  images  are  there  of  ob- 
jects the  chimpanzee  can  never  behold  ;  currents  of  sensa- 
tion wind  and  play  which  the  gorilla  is  no  more  aware  of 
than  the  Sphynx  of  Egypt  is  aware  of  the  breezes  that 
blow  the  light  sand  from  its  back.  In  the  long  process  of 
centuries,  the  ape  has  been  clothed  upon  with  many  attri- 
butes of  flesh*  and  blood,  every  lineament  and  fibre  of 
him  has  been  transformed,  his  very  skin  has  become  a 
garment  so  exquisite  in  quality  that  it  resembles  the 
original  membrane  about  as  nearly  as  the  hair  shirt  of  the 
Baptist  resembled  Paul's  spiritual  body.  To  learn  the 
simple  truth  about  man.  all  this  must  be  taken  into  account. 
The  most  perfect  specimen  of  the  race  tells  the  purest 
truth  about  the  race.  The  last  acquisition  contributes  to 
the  last  judgment.     To  know  the  full    truth  respecting 

7* 


154  THE  NAKED  TRUTH. 

man,  we  should  look  forward  not  backward,  up  not  down. 
It  is  a  matter  of  prophecy  not  of  tradition. 

The  materialist  comes  along ;  call  him  Vogt,  Moles- 
chott,  Buchnei',  and  proposes  to  tell  us  the  naked  truth 
about  the  human  brain.  He  discovers  there  no  soul,  no 
intelligence,  no  mind.  He  has  taken  it  to  pieces  and 
found  out  what  it  is  made  of.  Here  in  brief-  is  the  result : 
eighty  parts  are  water,  seven  parts  are  albumen,  a  little 
more  than  live  parts  are  cerebral  fat,  a  little  more  than 
five  parts  are  acids,  salts  and  sulphur,  the  rest  is  almost 
equally  divided  between  osmazome  and  phosphorus. 
There  is  the  naked  truth  respecting  the  human  brain, 
which  the  poets  and  theologians  speak  of  in  such  exalted 
terms  as  the  "  seat  of  reason,"  the  "  dwelling-place  of  the 
soul."  Yes,  that  is  the  naked  truth,  but  is  it  the  truth, 
robed  and  adorned  f  If  you  put  those  same  ingredients 
nicely  proportioned  and  mingled  into  a  silver  vase  will 
they  perform  the  functions  of  a  brain,  will  they  throb, 
tingle  and  think?  will  "Hamlets,"  and  "Phsedons"  and 
"Principias"  exhale  from  the  mixture?  will  the  genius 
of  Rafaelle  steam  up  ?  will  the  mental  powers  of  a  Bacon 
become  visible,  ascending  therefrom  ?  Something  is 
added  by  nature  which  the  chemist  leaves  out,  namely  the 
secret  of  combination,  which  qualifies  the  ingredients  to 
discharge  their  special  office.  Another  thing  the  philoso- 
pher omits  to  mention,  the  ages  of  experience  which  have 
deposited  the  results  of  cumulative  discipline,  have  dis- 
covered the  precise  proportions  in  which  the  animal  ingre- 
dients are  mingled  to  the  best  advantage,  and  have  per- 
fected the  combinations  for  their  fine  uses.  The  brain  is 
composed  of  the  aforesaid  ingredients,  plus  these  myriads 
of  ethereal  deposits.  The  education  of  the  brain  creates 
the  brain,  and  the  results  of  education  no  chemical  test 
will  ever  discover.     To  learn  those  we  must  take  the  liv- 


TEE  NAKED  TRUTH.  155 

ing  organ  at  the  moment  of  its  grandest  performance,  as 
illustrated  by  some  Leibnitz  or  JSTewton,  some  Dante,  Shake- 
speare or  Goethe.  The  naked  truth  about  the  brain  is  of 
the  smallest  possible  value.  The  truth  clothed  and  adorn- 
ed is  alone  significant,  and  what  that  may  be  only  the 
regal  intellects  will  show.  That  truth  the  most  enthusi- 
astic language  is  feeble  to  express.  Call  it  the  organ  of 
intelligence,  the  instrument  of  genius,  the  seat  of  inspira- 
tion, the  dwelling-place  of  immortal  attributes,  and  you 
do  not  dignify  it  too  much :  for  all  this  it  is.  As  the  child 
cannot  find  the  secret  of  the  flower's  bloom  and  fragrance 
by  pulling  it  to  pieces,  neither  can  the  chemist  find  the 
secret  of ,  intelligence  by  inspecting  the  contents  of  a  cra- 
nium. There  must  needs  be  a  poet  to  do  justice  to  the 
flower ;  there  must  needs  be  an  idealist  to  do  justice  to  a 
brain. 

The  argument  may  be  pushed  into  other  spheres  with 
equal  pertinency  and  with  greater  force.  In  moral  ques- 
tions the  real  truth  is  commonly  far  away  from  the  naked 
truth  ;  the  naked  truth  is  but  a  skeleton.  A  man  lived  in 
Paris  whose  whole  aspect  was  that  of  a  beggar ;  he  lived 
in  squalor,  dressed  in  rags,  ate  food  that  the  swine  would 
fain  fill  their  bellies  withal ;  he  spent  nothing  in  pleasure ; 
he  gave  nothing  in  charity ;  he  was  known  of  all  men  as 
a  disagreeable,  sour,  crusty  creature  without  natural  sym- 
pathies or  the  ordinary  traits  of  humanity :  he  died,  and 
in  looking  into  his  effects  a  will  was  discovered  bequeath- 
ing all  he  had,  a  large  fortune,  the  savings  of  many  years, 
to  the  founding  of  a  hospital  for  incurables. 

A  similar  case  occurred  not  long  since  in  ISTew  York. 
The  tenant  of  a  back  attic '  room  was  found  dead  in  a 
wretched  apartment,  in  circumstances  calculated  to  excite 
deep  commiseration.  The  floor  was  uncarpeted,  the  fuel 
box  was  empty,  the  stove  was  cold,  the  window-frames 


156  THE  STAKED  TRUTH. 

were  broken,  and  the  vacant  spaces  staffed  with  old  bits 
of  cloth  or  paper,  the  bed  was  a  heap  of  rags  ;  the  other  ' 
inmates  of  the  house  knew  nothing  about  the  man ;  they 
had  seen  him  stealing  in  and  out,  and  had  supposed  him 
to  be  a  miser  who  lived  by  beggary,  and  from  shame,  self- 
contempt  or  misanthropy  avoided  his  fellow-creatures. 
But  the  simple  truth  about  the  man  was  not  so  easily 
reached.  That  which  men  saw  was  literally  the  naked 
truth.  The  complete  truth,  robed  and  adorned,  proved  to  be 
that  the  man  lived  in  his  sympathies  with  the  humbler  crea- 
tures. As  the  years  went  by  they  filled  him  with  pity  to- 
wards the  brute  beasts  whom  he  saw  daily  insulted  and 
abused  in  the  streets.  He  lived  not  for  himself  but  for 
them ;  that  they  might  be  happier  he  was  content  to  be 
miserable ;  in  his  cold  garret  he  was  warmed  by  the  senti- 
ments of  his  heart ;  there  were  kind  thoughts  in  that  head 
so  shaggy  and  hard ;  in  that  withered  repulsive  bosom  tender 
feelings  had  their  abode ;  what .  Goethe  called  the  noblest 
reverence,  reverence  for  that  which  is  below  us,  dignified 
his  soul ;  he  was  clothed  upon  many  many  times  by  the 
house  eternal  in  the  heavens,  and  so  when  physically  un- 
clothed, he  was  not  found  naked.  Under  hie  bed  was  found 
enough  to  gladden  the  heart  of  the  brave  man  who  makes 
the  cause  of  the  brute  creatures  his  own.  The  naked 
truth  about  avarice  is  often  a  very  different  thing  from 
the  real  truth. 

The  principle  has  moral  applications  of  serious  impor- 
tance. There  is  an  old  popular  and  evil  habit  of  judging 
character  by  picking  it  to  pieces.  I  am  afraid  the  theolo- 
gians who  had  a  zeal  for  the  doctrine  of  natural  depravity 
started  it.  Their  method  was  to  submit  characters  to  the 
action  of  crucible  and  retort,  to  resolve  the  seeming  virtues 
and  graces  into  a  few  very  cheap  ill-flavored  and  ill-scented 
elements,  and  to  show  as  the  residuum  at  the  bottom  of 


THE  NAKED  TRUTH.  157 

the  crucible  an  ugly  lump  of  selfishness.  The  apparent 
nobleness-and  saintliness  were  not  discoverable. 

Certain  minute  philosophers,  as  they  seem  to  me,  of  the 
last  century,  adopted  a  similar  method.  Their  plan  was  to 
strip  off  what  they  called  the  amiable  disguises  of  quali- 
ties, the  mask  of  disinterestedness,  charitableness,  kindness, 
and  show  beneath  them  the  play  of  selfish  inclinations. 
It  pleased  them  to  exhibit  man  at  the  last  analysis  as  a 
machine  worked  by  two  wires,  fear  and  hope,  dread  of  pain 
and  desire  for  pleasure.  This,  said  Helvetius  and  his 
school,  is  the  simple  unvarnished  fact. 

The  gossips,  tale-bearers,  censorious  critics  of  the  com- 
munity pursue  the  same  evil  course.  Pouncing  upon  some 
well  reputed  person,  they  pick  at  hiin.till  they  find  an  in- 
firmity, a  foible,  fault,  some  unlovely  deed  or  unlucky 
step,  a  blunder  perhaps,  an  ugly  speck  in  the  disposition, 
and  setting  everything  else  aside,  they  hold  it  up  before 
all  eyes,  and  say :  "  See  here,  this  is  the  person  you  rever- 
ence ;  this  is  your  saint,  your  hero,  your  exemplar.  '  He  is 
no  better  than  he  should*be."  By  this  rule  you  may  prove 
any  man  base.  On  this  estimate  no  character  possesses 
worth  ;  for  the  best  inherit  vices  of  the  blood,  infelicities 
of  structure  for  which  they  .are  not  responsible  and  which 
they  cannot  overcome.  The  question  is,  have  they  tried 
to  overcome  them,  have  they  overlaid  them  with  any  de- 
posits of  virtue  ? 

King  David  was  guilty  of  very  black  deeds,  lustful  and 
infamous.  There  was  wild  blood  in  his  veins,  and  power 
had  turned  his  head.  But  he  confessed  his  sin,  accepted 
chastisement  meekly.  He  had  royal  elements  in  his 
nature,  and  he  did  his  best  to  make  them  supreme.  His 
acts  of  penitence  and  prayer  were  sincere ;  his  psalms 
were  an  aroma  from  a  great  soul,  and  these  after  all  exhibit 
the  truth  concerning  the  man,  not  the  naked  truth,  but 


158  THE  NAKED  TRUTH. 

the  truth  clothed  upon.  The  instrument  by  which  it  is 
discovered  is  sympathy ;  love  alone  perceives  qualities  in 
their  relations,  and  every  person,  the  meanest,  the  guilti- 
est, those  whose  volcanic  passions  tear  the  fair  surface  of 
their  existence,  have  their  periods  of  rest  when  the  sun- 
light and  the  dew  refresh  and  gladden  their  being.  There 
are  motives,  intentions,  memories,  hopes,  feelings,  that 
envelop  even  the  worst  deeds,  and  make  them  other  than 
they  seem.  But  this  line  investiture  is  invisible  to  all 
mortal  eyes. 

The  truth  I  am  expounding  is  so  wide  that  I  must  push 
my  exposition  further  in  order  to  display  its  bearings.  My 
friend  peels  off  covering  after  covering  from  Christianity, 
and  having  unwrapped  and  laid  by  the  integuments  that 
two  thousand  years  have  folded  about  it,  shows  the  small 
kernel  inside  and  calls  it  Christianity.  Here  you  have  it, 
he  says,  the  real  thing  as  disclosed  by  the  last  analysis  ; 
here  it  is,  a  faith  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ.  This  is 
the  whole  of  it ;  you  see  how  small  it  is ;  you  perceive 
how  foreign  to  our  sympathies  it  is ;  how  little  it  is 
capable  of  being  or  doing  for  us,  how  small  an  interest 
modern  men  and  women  have  in  it.  All  the  rest  is 
aftergrowth. 

My  friend  is  quite  right ;  Christianity  -as  a  naked  new- 
born babe  was  nothing  more  than  this.  This  was  all  it 
was  eighteen  hundred  years  ago;  this  little  seed-corn  lit 
to  feed  a  squirrel.  But  the  seed  was  planted  in  Palestine, 
Asia  Minor,  Greece,  Italy,  Germany,  Britain.  It  took 
root,  grew  and  flowered  variously  according  to  soil,  climate 
and  nurture.  Eighteen  hundred  years  have  elapsed.  The 
little  seed  lias  become  a  forest ;  its  fleshly  tabernacle  was 
dissolved,  and  it  was  clothed  upon  wonderfully  by  houses 
without  number  not  made  by  hands.  The  winds  of  per- 
secution carried  it  from  Palestine  to  Europe  ;  it  took  root 


THE  NAKED  TRUTH.  159 

in  strange  soils;  it  collected  about  itself  strange  influences; 
its  fruit  took  color  and  savor  from  the  social  world  it  grew 
in.  The  Christ  idea  that  was  the  primitive  germ  became 
transmuted  into  marvellous  shapes  suited  to  the  needs  of 
modern  people  in  a  world  of  which  the  Jews  knew  noth- 
ing; social  customs  grew  about  it,  laws,  institutions, 
standards  of  character,  modes  of  life,  movements  of  phil- 
anthropy, all  characterized  by  the  spirit  of  the  new  ages  ; 
at  length  the  original  germ  all  but  disappears  from  view 
in  the  finer  forms  ■of  the  faith,  and  what  remains  is  a  har- 
vest of  moral  sentiments,  crops  of  ideas,  principles, 
feelings,  that  were  not  contained  by  any  'means  in  the 
original  seed-com,  but  which  the  intellectual  light  and  air 
of  the  western  world  produced  as  they  acted  on  it.  This 
vast,  various,  abundant,  exuberant  product,  with  its  num- 
berless ramifications,  its  infinite  complexities,  is  Christian- 
ity, not  a  simple  thing  at  all,  but  a  whole  world  of  things, 
many  of  which  seem  scarcely  related  to  one  another, 
worships,  reforms,  charities,  traditions,  anticipations,  be- 
liefs, piled  up  layer  on  layer,  spread  out  wide  like  the 
branches  of  some  gigantic  tree  that  has  dropped  its  suckers 
into  the  ground  till  it  has.  become  a  continent  of  trees. 
Theodore  Parker  said,  all  sects  and  churches  are  required 
to  express  Christianity  as  it  exists  to-day;  and  the  saying 
is  true,  because  the  leaven  of  the  religion  has  affected 
every  department  of  civilization.  Indeed  there  is  more 
in  Christianity  than  all  the  sects  represent.  Though 
Romanism  perished,  though  the  Protestant  churches 
disappeared,  though  the  Unitarians  and  other  denomina- 
tions vanished,  there  would  still  be  something  left,  a  grace, 
an  aroma,  an  atmosphere,  a  spirit  and  style  of  being,  which 
men  enjoy,  feel,  live  by,  but  cannot  explain. 

Once  such  a  thing  existed  as  naked  truth,  but  no  such 
thing  as  naked  truth  exists  to-day.     All  truth  is  clothed 


160  THE  NAKED  TRUTH. 

and  adorned,  and  when  most  clothed  and  adorned  is  most 
itself.  In  times  of  ignorance  people  enriched  their  world 
with  fairies  and  nymphs,  naiads,  dryads,  spirits  of  wood 
and  river.  But  our  world  is  so  rich  that  devices  of*this 
kind  are  not  required.  The  dry  bones  of  fact  are  covered 
with  the  softest  verdure,  the  skeleton  rocks  are  clad  with 
soils,  and  where  once  were  wildernesses  are  the  habitations 
of  men.  They  who  would  find  the  naked  truth  now  must 
dig  and  delve  for  it. 

I  pray  that  in  this  mass  of  illustration  my  point  may 
not  be  lost  sight  of.  I  wish  to  beget  a  persuasion  that 
the  true  way  to  find  truth  of  any  kind  is  to  take  it  in  its 
most  advanced  and  complete  form,  and  then  employ  the 
method  of  synthesis.  Paul  says  "  prove  all  things,"  as  if 
that  were  an  undertaking  anybody  could  enter  on.  But 
the  task  of  proving  or  testing  the  least  thing  is  exceed 
ingly  arduous.  It  requires  all  the  powers,  and  tasks  all 
the  faculties  one  has.  To  find  the  whole  truth  respecting 
a  June  rose  calls  into  requisition  all  the  resources  of  modern 
science,  and  even  with  their  help  the  inmost  secret  will  be 
concealed.  The  chemist  analyses  the  soil  in  which  it  has 
root ;  the  naturalist  studies  its  vessels,  its  stalk,  its  leaves ; 
the  physicist  makes  it  his  business  to  detect  the  effects  of 
the  sunbeam  on  its  petals ;  the  physiologist  traces  the 
processes  of  its  growth  from  simple  to  complex,  and  at- 
tempts to  show  the  law  by  which,  in  the  development  of 
species,  it  came  to  be  precisely  what  it  is.  Finally,  the 
poet  take's  the  flower  up  into  the  realm  of  sentiment,  as- 
sociates it  with  youth,  beauty,  purity,  love,  gives  it  a 
place  in  the  world  of  fancy  where  it  blooms  forever. 

A  prosaic  visitor  in  a  picture  gallery  judged  of  the 
paintings  on  the  walls  by  the  extent  of  canvas  they  cov- 
ered, and  the  amount  of  pigment  that  was  employed  on 
them.     If  permitted,  he  would  have  found  out  the  naked 


TEE  NAKED  TRUTH.  161 

truth  in  regard  to  them  with  a  yard-stick  and  a  penknife. 
Yet,  to  penetrate  the  soul  of  one  of  them,  how  much  was 
required  ?  The  eye  practiced  in  lines  and  colors,  ac- 
quaintance with  the  forms  of  natural  objects  and  the 
human  figure,  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  grouping 
and  perspective,  familiarity  with  the  artist's  methods, 
insight  into  the  motives  of  a  piece,  the  sentiment  of 
beauty,  love  of  the  ideal.  Leave  out  any  one  of  these,  and 
the  judgment  is  at  fault ;  combine  them  all,  and.  no  more 
than  justice  is  done  to' a  master's  creation. 

Shall  we  think  less  of  the  divine  master's  creations  than 
of  these  canvas  productions  ?  "Will  we  think  to  get  at 
the  secret  of  a  faith  by  pulling  it  to  pieces,  and  not  by 
following  the  law  of  its  structure  ?  Our  modern  practice 
has  been  in  the  art  of  analysis — the  art  of  reducing  all 
things  to  their  elements.  It  is  the  scientific  method,  and 
the  value  of  it  cannot  be  estimated,  too  highly.  To  pul- 
verize the  solid  substances  of  the  earth,  to  reduce  adamant 
to  vapor,  and  behind  the  vapor  to  touch  the  imponderable 
forces  that  perform  the  work  of  creation — to  grind  to 
powder  the  solid  institutions  of  men,  to  resolve  establish- 
ments into  ideas,  and  behind  the  mask  of  usage  detect  the 
movements  of  the  bodiless  ^bought  that  indicates  the 
presence  of  universal  mind,  to  sift  motives  and  decompose 
principles  till  the  roots  of  character  are  laid  bare,  is  cer- 
tainly a  useful  thing  to  do — all  honor  to  the  men  that  do 
it !  This  is  to  get  at  the  beginning  of  creation,  at  the 
origins  of  existing  things.  But  it  is  by  the  opposite  pro- 
cess that  we  arrive  at  the  glory  of  creation,  and  see  the 
consummation  of  created  things.  To  reduce  the  diamond 
to  carbon  was  a  contribution  to  chemical  knowledge ;  but 
to  transform  the  carbon  into  diamond  was  a  triumph  of 
creative  genius.  The  dissolution  of  the  fleshly  tenement 
into  dust  is  a  feat  of  daily  occurrence ;  but  out  of  the  dust 


162  THE  NAKED  TRUTH. 

to  create  a  man,  is  the  effort  of  Omnipotence.     Does  any 
one  ask  which  is  the  nobler? 

One  may  wellstand  in  awe  as  he  thinks  of  what  cheap 
material  the  finest  things  are  made,  but  to  preserve 4;he 
awe,  thought  must  dwell  on  the  fine  things,  not  on  the 
cheap  material.  A  sunset  cloud  is  composed  of  a  wisp  of 
vapor  and  a  sunbeam,  but  the  gorgeous  phenomenon  at- 
tracts all  eyes,  that  watch  with  emotion  the  strange  phan- 
tasmagoria of  mountain  ranges,  castles,  cities,  grotesque 
forms  of  animals,  monsters  and  men,  shapes  of  grazing 
sheep,  camels  traveling  over  wastes  of  sand,  flocks  of 
birds  flying  in  the  air.  The  vision  fades  but  is  forever  and 
forever  renewed,  and  as  often  as  it  is  repeated,  the  chil- 
dren of  men,  the  glad,  the  grieving,  poets,  lovers,  mourners, 
feel  the  active  enchantment  in  their  hearts. 

"  We  are  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of,"  says  Pros- 
pero,  "  and  onr  little  life  is  rounded  by  a  sleep."  But  we 
are  what  we  are,  nevertheless,  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
made  as  to  our  bodies,  and  miracles  of  wonder  as  to  our 
minds.  The  slenderness  of  the  material  does  not  preju- 
dice the  solidity  of  the  result. 

Most  enduring  beliefs  of  mankind  are  composed  of  ele- 
ments so  slight  that  they  almost  vanish  at  a  touch.  The 
belief  in  God,  for  example,  is  made  of  very  ethereal  stuff, 
the  feeling  of  awe,  the  sentiment  of  veneration,  the  sense 
of  dependence  on  higher  powers,  the  emotion  of  trust,  the 
childlike  instinct  that  leads  in  search  of  causes  for  phenom- 
ena ;  yet  the  belief  has  a  strength  like  that  of  the  ancient 
hills  round  whose  base  civilizations  appear  and  disappear, 
in  whose  vales  hamlets  nestle,  whose  summits  watch-towers 
crown. 

An  analysis  of  the  faith  in  immortality  makes  us  won- 
der how  it  came  into  being.  Its  origins  seem  not  only 
obscure,  but  in  some  respects  discreditable,  as  when  one 


TEE  NAKED  TRUTH.  163 

of  its  roots  is  seen  to  be  the  childish  belief  in  ghosts  and 
spectres.  As  water- drops  compose  the  rainbow,  so  do 
falling  tears  "compose  in  large  part  the  bow  of  heavenly 
promise  that  spans  the  abyss  of  death.  It  is  only  while 
the  showers  are  falling  and  the  sun  is  low  that  the  arch 
appears  in  its  beauty. 

The  world  of  the  hereafter  is  called  into  existence  by 
the  passionate  hopes,  longings,  demands,  anticipations  of 
men  and  women  in  their  excited  hours  of  bereavement  or 
disappointment.  Take  these  one  by  one,  each  by  itself, 
how  evanescent,  how  all  but  illusory  they  appear ;  how 
wild  seems  the  notion  that  aught  permanent  can  arise  out 
of  them  !  And  yet  the  faith  bears  the  weight  of  centuries ; 
great  souls  find  refuge  in  it ;  and  to  multitudes  it  stands 
as  the  one  assurance  that  is  certain  and  immovable.  The 
house  not  made  with  hands  is  the  house  that  is  eternal. 

Nothing  is  more  solid  than  character  ;  nothing  on  the 
whole  is  so  solid.  A  great  character  is  the  type  of  the 
everlasting.  It  is  the  crystalization  of  the  qualities  that 
we  call  divine,  immortal — justice,  truth,  purity,  kindness, 
simplicity,  faith.  It  is  the  diamond  that  is  hardest  of  all 
substances  and  yet  the  most  dazzlingly  beautiful.  But 
what  is  it  made  of  ?  Aspirations,  purposes,  endeavors, 
good  thoughts,  just  emotions,  acts  of  fidelity  which  become 
compacted  together,  vitalized,  organized,  till  they  are 
proof  against  all  the  agencies  that  would  pulverize  them 
or  reduce  them  to  vapor. 

All  fine  beliefs  grow  richer  with  time,  under  the  succes- 
sive accumulations  of  experience  that  gather  upon  them. 
They  lose  their  simplicity,  but  they  gain  in  luxuriance ; 
they  are  more  complex  but  more  glorious.  The  belief  in 
God  as  held  by  Herbert  Spencer  or  John  Tyndall,  is  to 
the  belief  of  an  ancient  Israelite  as  the  heaven  of  Her- 
schel  is  to  the  firmament  of  Joshua,  or  a  modern  city  like 


164  THE  NAKED  TRUTH. 

London,  to  t>ethlehem.  It  is  too  vast  to  be  explored,  too 
complicated  to  be  described.  Compare  the  belief  in  prov- 
idence as  entertained  by  the  Hebrew  propnets,  with  the 
belief  in  providence  as  held  by  Theodore  Parker  or  Stuart 
Mill.  They  are  as  unlike  as  the  acorn  and  the  oak  ;  yet 
the  new  belief  and  the  old  one  are  the  same,  except  that 
some  twenty-five  hundred  years  have  done  their  work  in 
depositing  knowledge  and  reflection  on  the  primitive  per- 
suasion of  mankind. 

'Place  side  by  side  the  germinal  idea  of  immortality  as 
described  by  Lubbock  and  Tylor  with  the  idea  as  it  lies 
to-day  in  the  minds  of  religious  people  in  Christendom. 
Consider  the  numerous  phases  of  the  faith  as  it  is  profess- 
ed by  mankind,  from  the  atheist's  conception  of  immor- 
tality in  the  race,  to  the  spiritualist's  familiar  thought  of 
the  departed  as  personally  alive  and  near,  within  reach  of 
communication,  and  even  palpable. to  touch,  from  the  sen- 
timental dream  of  Kenan,  who  tenderly  addresses  the 
thought  of  his  dead  sister,  to  the  sober  business-like  per- 
suasion of  the  man  of  affairs  who  consults  the  spirits  on 
matters  of  finance  and  politics.  The  faith  that  was  once 
a  flower  is  now  a  forest,  solemn  with  shacie,  bright  with 
vistas  opening  right  and  left  to  the  sunlit  world,  the  refuge 
of  the  storm-beaten,  the  haunt  of  dreamers. 

As  faiths  thus  become  rich  with  time,  the  minds  that 
are  privileged  to  cherish  them  ought  to  expand  with  satis- 
faction. The  seekers  after  the  naked  truth,  living  under 
ground  among  the  roots  of  things,  toiling  in  laboratories, 
busy  at  the  task  of  trying  all  precious  substances  by  fire, 
resolving  the  jewels  of  the  world  into  smoke,  the  critics 
whose  office  it  is  to  reduce  things  to .  their  rudimentary 
elements,  can  hardly  be  expected  to  rejoice  ardently  over 
their  work.  They  do  not  see  things  as  they  are,  but  as 
they  were  in  the   beginning ;  they  see  the  seed,  not  the 


THE  NAKED  TRUTH.  165 

flower  ;  the  sucker,  not  the  fruit ;  the  germ  cell,  not  the 
organism  ;  their  gaze  is  riveted  on  a  point  of  exceeding 
smallness ;  they  have  little  time  or  disposition  to  look 
around  and  up.  The  duty  of  generalizing  must  be  left  to 
others.  They  scrutinize,  and  if  at  times  a  feeling  comes 
over  them  of  the  poverty  and  emptiness  of  the  universe, 
they  are  not  to  be  blamed,  but  forgiven  and  blessed  for 
their  needed  service. 

But  they  whose  faces  are  not  held  in  this  way  to  the 
earth,  they  who  can  take  a  broad  survey  of  the  world  they 
live  in,  can  catch  the  odors  of  its  flowers  and  taste  the 
sweetness  of  its  fruits,  can  revel  in  the  light  of  its  sun- 
rises and  sunsets  and  enjoy  the  eternal  beauty  of  its  stars, 
should  go  about  filled  with  serene  thoughts,  feeling  that 
now  they  are  the  sons  of  God,  content  that  it  doth  not 
yet  appear  what  they  shall  be,  but  satisfied  that  whatever 
does  appear  will  be  more  glorious  than  anything  which  is. 


X. 

THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

r  I  ^HE-  belief  in  a  dying  God  is  the  centre  of  the  whole 
-*-  Christian  system,  as  it  is  also  the.  root  of  nearly  all 
the  ancient  religions.  The  belief,  stated  in  its  bare  form, 
is  this; — Touched  by  the  unspeakable  sorrow  of  the  world, 
moved  by  the  misery  in  which  the  human  race  lay, 
shocked  by  the  guiltiness  into  which  his  moral  creation 
had  fallen,  the  Almighty  left  his  throne  of  light,  came 
down  from  his  eternal  seat,  took  upon  himself  the  form  of 
a  man,  underwent  all  the  sufferings  of  common  humanity, 
and,  at  last,  after  a  short  career,  which  was,  nevertheless, 
long  enough  for  him  to  go  through  every  phase  of  human 
experience  and  life,  allowed  himself  to  be  put  to  death  as 
a  malefactor  by  the  humiliating  punishment  of  the  cross. 

This  prodigious  transaction  is  held  to  be  justified  by  the 
assumed  necessity  of  lifting  mankind  out  of  their  wretch- 
ed, sinful  state,  they  being  utterly  powerless  to  help  them- 
selves, even  to  raise  themselves  from  the  ground,  to  ad- 
vance themselves  at  all  in  the  direction  of  their  own  im- 
provement or  salvation.  Doomed  to  everlasting  death, 
nothing  less  than  the  death  of  the  Everlasting  could  re- 
store their  hope  of  life. 

This  is  the  central  belief  of  the  Christian  religion,  and, 
as  I  have  said,  of  all  the  ancient  religions.  It  is  the  cen- 
tral belief  of  the  religion  of  this  present  time,  not  by  any 
means  remanded  to  a  secondary  place  in  thought.  Slightly 


THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD.  167 

modified  or  mitigated  it  may  be  in  some  of  its  accidents, 
but  at  heart  it  is' the  same  thing  at  present  that  it  was  two, 
three,  four  thousand  years  ago.  In  the  larger  number  of 
churches  in  any  of  our  cities  this  belief  will  be  preached 
to-day  in  the  sermons,  will  saturate  the  prayers,  will 
breathe  through  the  strains  of  the  organ  and  the  music  of 
the  choir,  will  appear  in  every  emblem  that  is  presented 
to  the  eye,  will  stand  before  the  worshippers'  vision  carved 
or  emblazoned  in  the  form  of  cross  or  cup.  It  will  sigh 
and  wail  through  the  mournful  verses  of  the  Episcopal 
liturgy ;  it  will  be  the  soul  of  the  creed  that  the  people 
repeat  after  the  priest ;  it  will,  in  fact,  be  the  pervading 
idea  and  sentiment  of  teaching  and  worship. 

The  belief  is  not  confined  to  Sunday  observance  or  the 
services  of  the  Church.  It  is  worked  into  the  theories  of 
common  life.  It  comes  out  in  every  great  crisis  of  human 
experience,  in  each  grand  event  of  existence.  In  the 
chamber  of  the  dying  the  priest  murmurs  it  in  straining 
ears.  It  stands  by  the  grave  and  rolls  over  its  mould  the 
solemn  words  of  redemption  by  the  blood  of  the  Crucified. 
Grief  confesses  the  claim  and  exalts  the  glory  of  the  dy- 
ing God.  The  sorrow-stricken  are  comforted  by  the 
thought  that  the  Lord  has  died  for  the  sorrowing.  The 
guilty  are  confronted  with  the  terrible  fact  that  because 
they  were  guilty  the  Infinite  Perfection  Itself  had  to  bow 
to  the  bitterness  of  death. 

To  us  such  a  belief  seems  grotesque,  and  that  only. 
For  my  own  part,  I  have  no  words  to  express  the  literal 
absurdity  of  it.  "When  we  think  of  God  as  modern  men 
are  educated  to  think  of  him,  as  the  Infinite,  the  Eternal, 
the  Unknown,  the  Unsearchable,  the  Permanent  in  the 
universe,  the  perfect  "Wisdom  and  Truth,  the  absolute 
Goodness,  the  Being  in  whose  hands  all  these  systems  of 
worlds  are  less  than  the  dust  in  the  balance ;  when  we 


168  THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

think  of  man  and  of  the  little  planet  that  he  lives  on — > 
one  of  the  smallest  and  darkest  of  all  the  Orbs  that  God 
has  created  ;  when  we  think  of  the  scale  of  his  troubles, 
and  cares,  and  sorrows,  of  his  few  battles  and  faint  striv- 
ings and  evanescent  griefs,  his  superb  endowments,  his 
magnificent  apparatus  of  self-help,  his  unused  powers,  and 
then  picture  this  great  Being  as  coming  down,  clothing 
himself  with  flesh,  and  submitting  to  be  driven  about, 
beaten  and  buffeted,  scorned,  spit  upon,  and  mocked, 'and 
finally  nailed  to  a  tree,  that  these  creatures  of  his  may  be 
redeemed, — why,  it  is  not  in  the  modern  understanding  to 
take  in  such  extravagant  incongruities  of  thought.  The 
belief  is  a  poem,  an  allegory,  a  parable,  a  divine  romance, 
a  dream  of  the  soul  It  is  one  of  those  holy  fables  of 
Providence  which,  under  a  grotesque  and  strange  form, 
convey,  perhaps  a  shadowy,  yet  a  profound  truth. 

I  do  not  believe  in  pouring  contempt  upon  any  wide- 
spread faith.  Whatever  nations  of  men  have  believed  in 
is  sacred,  even  though  it  be  obsolete.  A  faith  so  univer- 
sal as  this,  that  has  prevailed  all  over  Asia,  that  the  Asia- 
tics handed  to  the  Greeks,  that  the  Greeks  handed  to  the' 
Christians,  is  a  sacred  faith  ;  it  means  something,  and 
what  it  means  it  is  worth  while  to  know. 

The  belief  in  a  dying  God  has  accomplished  three 
things.  In  the  first  place,  it  has  .imparted  to  Providence 
an  attribute  of  exceeding  tenderness.  It  has  put  a  tear, 
wo  may  say,  into  the  eye  of  the  Omnipotent.  It  has  made 
the  almighty  heart  of  the  world  throb  and  beat  with  emo- 
tions of  compassion.  Estimate  the  power  of  this  if  you 
can.  When  the  wise  man  sits  down  to  teach  a  child  ; 
when  a  man  of  exalted  rank  or  great  power  stoops  to  lift  up 
from  the  dust  some  miserable,  obscure,  and  despised  crea- 
ture ;  when  a  person  of  eminent  character  or  lofty  endow- 
ment fights  the  battle  of  "the  scorned  and  outcast,  the  very 


THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD.  IQQ 

thought  of  it  touches  the  heart  to  the  core.  But  to  think 
that  God  himself,  the  Supreme  Goodness  and  Serenity,  the 
Holiness  and  Peace  of  the  world,  actually  came  down  in 
person,  stood  by  the  side  of  the  dying,  called  back  the  dead, 
to  life,  wept  over  humble  graves,  took  little  children  in  his 
eternal  arms,  and  comforted  wretched  mothers  for  the  loss 
of  their  darlings,  sat  in  fishing-boats  teaching  their  duty  to 
simple  people,  the  thought  of  it  was  enough  to  break  the 
heart  of  the  world,  and  it  did.  A  great  sob  of  penitential 
agony  went  up  from  those  early  ages  to  which  this  faith 
was  living ;  a  great  sob  of  shame  and  pity,  as  if  the  heart 
of  mankind  was  breaking.  It  was  too  much  that  all 
those  little  ones  should  be  thought  of  graciously  by  the 
Most  High.  In  dark  ages,  when  there  was  no  knowledge, 
or  justice,  no  general  idea  of  kindness,  no  conception  of 
Providence,  no  knowledge  of  the  world,  of  things,  or 
men,  no  understanding  of  human  nature  or  social  rela- 
tions—in  those  dark  ages,  truly  dark,  not  -only  intellectu- 
ally but  spiritually  black — in  those  ages,  a  faith  like  this 
was  worth  more  than  all  the  teaching  that  could  be  given 
by  the  wisest  men.  Men  are  evtm  now  reached  through 
their  emotions  more  easily  than  through  their  under- 
standings, and  a  faith  like  this  brought  an  omnipotent 
force  to  bear  upon  the  very  tenderest  spot  in  human 
nature. 

Another  effect  this  belief  had.  It  sanctified  suffering  ; 
it  made  human  sorrow  a  consecrated  thing  ;  it  took  the 
pitiful  weakness"  and  wretchedness  of  the  world  into  the 
sheltering  arms  of  God.  The  realm  of  coldness  and 
dreariness  was  no  longer  an  outside  realm  ;  it  was  annexed 
to  heavenly  places,  and  made  a  constituent  portion  of  the 
celestial  domain.  The  sufferers  stood  nearest  to  heaven  ; 
they  were  the  most  loved  ;  theirs' was  a  privileged  .condi- 
tion.    To  be  in  want,  and  poverty,  and  weakness ;  to  be 

8 


170  TUB  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

buffeted  and  despised  ;  to  be  persecuted  and  forsaken  ;  to 
be  bated  of  all  men,  was  to  enter  into  the  secret  expe- 
rience of  God's  own  history.  By. this  way  mortals  found 
entrance  into  bliss.  Sorrow  no  longer  implied  sin,  no 
longer  shut  people  out  from  the  Lord  ;  it  was  sorrow  that 
brought  people  into  full  communion  with  the  Lord,  and 
made  God  verily  a  Father.  The  great  sorrows  of  the 
world  seemed  now  to  have  a  touching  expression  in  them. 
The  streams  of  blood  that  were  shed  on  holy  battle-fields 
and  scaffolds  seemed  to  pour  from  the  Redeemer's  side. 
The  oceans  of  tears  that  innocence  shed  dropped  from 
heavenly  eyes.  The  sighs  and  sobs,  the  meanings  and 
wailings  of  the  providentially  afflicted,  the  cries  of  agony 
in  sick-rooms,  in  hospitals,  and  desolated  homes  were  the 
sighs,  as  it  were,  of  God  himself  weeping  for  his  little 
ones.  Yes,  those  bitterest  woes  that  men  bring  upon 
themselves  by  their  recklessness  and  guilt — the  awful  pes- 
tilences, the  ravaging  plagues,  the  hideous  wars,  the  fright- 
ful distempers,  that  sometimes  fairly  took  possession,  of 
the  world  and  decimated  mankind — what  were  they  but 
so  many  expressions  of  the  infinite  loving-kindness  of 
God,  that  would  not  allow  his  people  to  sink  away  into 
recklessness  and  ignorance  without  an  effort  on  his  part 
to  recover  them  ?  Even  in  the  woes  that  sin  brought 
down  there  was  something  pathetic,  pleading,  touching ; 
and  thus  all  the  wretched,  and  even  the  family  of  the 
wicked,  were  brought  into  the  bosom  of  the  Eternal. 

Another  effect  this  belief  has  had.  It  served  as  a 
refuge  from  atheism.  The  atheist  says,  How  will  you 
account  for  the  wretchedness  of  the  world  on  the  theory 
that  the  world  is  provided  for  by  a  good  God  ?  How  can 
you  explain  the  existence  of  want,  poverty,  suffering, 
ac>'on.y>  premature  and  violent  death,  broken  hearts,  crushed 
spirits,  wasted  lives,  on   the  supposition  that  there  is  a 


THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD.  171 

thoughtful  Deity  ?  If  God  is  good,  why  is  not  the  world 
happy  ?  If  God  loves  his  creatures,  why  does  he  leave 
them  all,  without  exception,  exposed  to  some  kind  of  des- 
olation ?  If  God  fills  his  heavens  with  light,  why  all  this 
ignorance  ?  If  God  is  compassion,  why  all  this  complaint 
and  bitterness  ?  If  God  loves  the  world,  then  the  world 
should  be  lovely.  Not  so,  says  this  old  belief,  not  so ;  it 
is  because  God  loves  the  world  that  the  world  suffers.  It 
is  a  mis-read  legend  that  Adam  and  Eve  were  driven  out 
of  their  Eden  by  an  evil  spirit.  No  evil  spirit  ever  drove 
man  out  of  Paradise.  No  devil  ever  broke  up  that  lus- 
cious state  of  moral  unconsciousness. 

An  evil  spirit  would  have  kept  Eden  as  it  was,  an  evil 
spirit  would  have  multiplied  Edens  all  over  the  earth,  so 
that  there  should  be  nothing  else.  He  would  have  weeded 
the  ground,  never  allowing  a  briar  or  a  thorn  to  appear. 
The  days  should  always  be  sunny,  the  heavens  always 
bright,  the  airs  balmy,  the  trees  fruitful,  the  ground  fer 
tile.  No  necessity  for  labor,  if  an  evil  spirit  was  near,  no 
care,  or  trouble,  or  vexation,  or  annoyance ;  no  beasts  to 
be  exterminated,  no  reptiles  to  be  eradicated,  no  insects 
to  kill,  no  violent  men  to  subdue  ;  nothing  but  ease  and 
plenty,  and  abundance  and  felicity,  in  this  realm.  An 
evil  spirit  would  have  made  the  earth  a  garden,  and-  there 
he  would  have  placed  humanity  to  rot.  That  fable  was 
credited  when  man  had  no  conception  of  what  manhood 
was,  or  what  it  was  that  constituted  a  human  creature. 
It  was  the  love  of  God  that  drove  man  out  of  Eden  into 
the  world,  where  he  might  know  good  and  evil,  where  he 
should  have  his  destiny  fairly  set  before  him,  and  his  fate 
in  his  own  hand.  Do  you  complain  because  the  saints 
are  persecuted,  because  the  martyrs  meet  a  bitter  death, 
because  the  hero  must  lay  down  his  life  for  a  noble  cause, 
because  the  grandest  careers  come  to  a  premature  end, 


172  THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

because  the  heavenly-minded  are  destitute  and  forsaken, 
because  the  pure-hearted  are  scorned,  because  the  "  sons  of 
men  "  have  hot  where  to  lay  their  heads  ?  It  was  God 
who  went  through  all  these  things.  He  accepted  suffer- 
ing. It  was  He  who  was  poor,  and  destitute,  and  forsaken, 
who  had  no  place  where  to  lay  his  head.  It  was  He  that 
suffered  himself  to  be  spit  upon,  and  buffeted,  and 
scourged,  and  scorned,  and  nailed  to  the  tree.  It  was  He 
who  was  brought  to  a  premature  end  after  a  brief  ministry 
of  mercy.  "Will  you  say  that  the  kindness  of  God  is  an 
argument  against  his  existence?  "Will  you  urge  that  God 
is  to  blame  for  laying  upon  his  creatures  the  same  expe- 
riences that  he  suffered  himself?  "Will  you  make  the 
infinite  benignity  of  Heaven  an  argument  against  its 
character?  JSTay !  rather  stand  confounded  before  this 
fact,  that  Heaven  has  stooped  down  and  entered  into  the 
very  secret  of  suffering,  and  in  entering  into  it  has  justi- 
fied it,  explained  it,  and  consecrated  it. 

This  is  the  hidden  meaning  of  that  old  belief.  Look 
at  it  as  poetry,  and  how  beautiful  it  is!  Let  the  imagina- 
tion take  it  in,  loveliness  graces  it  all  over.  Let  it  lie 
simply  in  the  heart  as  a  sentiment,  and  it  warms  the  heart 
to  the  core.  But  forget  that  it  is  poetry,  read  it  as  prose, 
instead  of  a  parable  make  it  a  dogma,  and  the  whole  sig- 
nificance of  it  is  changed.  Instantly  a  veil  comes  over 
it  all,  and  what  was  formerly  so  beautiful,  touching, 
divine,   becomes  cold,   strange,  and    mischievous. 

There  are  three  evils  that  ilow  from  this  belief  in  a 
dying  God.  It  is  accountable  for  an  enormous  amount 
of  sentimental  ism,  it  begets  a  weak,  puny,  self-conscious, 
complaining  heart.  A  dying  God,  a  suffering  God  ! — then 
what  is  there  worth  thinking  of  but  suffering  and  dying? 
So  men  have  moaned  their  sorrows,  and  told  their  woes 
over  and  over ;  they  have  sought  sorrow  in  all  places,  have 


THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD.  173 

gone  to  Nature  for  it,  have  fancied  that  creation  was 
pitched  on  a  minor  key,  have  detected  the  sobs  of  anguish 
in  the  falling  of  waters,  the  blowing  of  winds,  the  rust- 
ling foliage  of  trees,  the  murmurs  of  the  brooks.  Where 
sorrow  existed,  they  exaggerated  it,  dwelt  upon  it,  pressed 
it  in,  made  it  more  and  more  an  ineradicable  part  of 
human  experience.  Where  sorrow  did  not  exist,  they 
imagined  it.  All  people  must  be  sad,  was  the  cherished 
persuasion.  There  is  sorrow  at  the  heart  of  everybody. 
Beware  how  you  trust  to  joy  or  to  hopefulness,  there  is  a 
pensive  strain  in  all  human  experience.  So  profoundly 
has  this  sentiment  become  impressed  upon  the  heart  of 
Christendom  that  nothing  is  accepted  as  good  which  has 
not  a  tinge  of  sorrow.  Only  the  virtues  that  are  born  of 
sorrow,  it  is  supposed,  are  real  virtues.  Patience,  sub- 
mission, resignation,  self-denial,  self-renunciation — these 
are  the  admitted  graces.  The  pale  countenance  is  the 
interesting  countenance.  The  downcast  eye,  full  of 
unshed  tears,  is  the  human  eye.  This  tin,ge  of  sorrow 
deepens  even  to  blackness,  and  blots  out  the  very  light  of 
joy.  The  glory  is  taken  out  of  nature,  the  cordiality  is 
taken  out  of  society,  the  heartiness  out  of  the  heart. 
Here  is  one  evil — that  men  are  made  self-pitying,  led  to 
call  themselves  miserable  creatures,  to  say,  "  How  sad  we 
are !  how  sad  our  neighbors  are !  what  a  wretched  world 
it  is !  what  a  vale  of  sorrow  wTe  live  in  !  what  a  weary 
time  we  are  all  having  of  it !  if  there  was  no  other  world 
but  this,  life  would  not  be  worth  having ! "  all  morbid, 
mawkish,  and  sentimental,  all  depressing  to  the  springs  of 
health  and  life. 

Another  mischief  has  followed  from  this  belief.  It 
has  encouraged  not  only  self-pity,  but  self-contempt.  A 
dying  God — why  a  dying  God  ?  Because  men  were  sunk 
in  iniquity,  and  could  not  rescue  themselves.    But,  if  God 


174  THE  DYING  AND  TEE  LIVING  GOD. 

dies  because  men  are  wicked,  and  if  the  death  of  God 
was  necessary  to  rescue  men  from  wickedness,  then  men 
must  be  very  wicked  indeed.  There  is  no  possibility  of 
exaggerating  the  malignity  and  depravity  of  the  world. 
God  would  not  die  for  a  peccadillo ;  He  would  not  die 
for  a  foible  or  for  a  fault,  for  a  mistake  or  for  a  blunder. 
God  would  not  come  down  from  Heaven  and  die  simply 
because  men  were  stupid,  or  blind,  or  reckless,  or  fooli&h, 
or  passionate ;  Pie  could  only  undergo  such  prodigious 
experiences  because  men  were  utterly  depraved ;  and  so 
they  must  be.  They  must  be,  and  you  must  make  it  out 
that  they  are ;  and  if  they  do  not  seem  to  be,  you  must 
prove  that  their  seeming  does  not  conform  to  fact.  So,  all 
over  Christendom,  for  two  thousand  years,  men  have  been 
peering  down  into  their  own  consciousness,  trying  to  dis- 
cover the  seeds  of  evil  there,  never  happy  until  they  did ; 
perfectly  happy  if  they  could  prove  themselves  to  be  good 
for  nothing;  entirely  content  if  they  could  demonstrate 
beyond  question  the  truth  that  they  were  miserable 
sinners ;  supremely  satisfied  if  they  could  comprehend  the 
whole  race  in  the  same  dismal  category.  Could  anything 
be  more  deplorable  than  that?  Could  any  result  of 
unbelief  be  more  unfortunate?  This  has  been  one 
result  of  the  belief  in  a  dying  God — that  men  have  dis- 
believed in  their  own  nature,  in  the  worth  of  their  affec- 
tions, the  integrity  of  their  moral  will,  the  nobleness  of 
their  conscience,  and  the  purpose  for  which  they  were 
created.  An  orthodox  preacher  once  said  in  my  hearing, 
that  men — other  men — were  born  to  live;  Christ  was 
born  that  he  might  die.  Was  ever'  a  more  extravagant 
statement  made  than  that? 

Another  mischief  has  resulted  from  this  belief.  It  has 
deprived  the  world  of  the  benefit  of  divine  inspiration. 
For  it  has  taken  God  out  of  life.     The  modern  world  is 


THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD.,  175 

rendered  vacant  of  divine  influence.  Men  who  live,  work, 
purpose,  strive,  and  endeavor  here  are  not  Messed  in  so 
doing  by  the  divine  spirit.  That  is  away  in  Palestine. 
God's  life  culminated  in  a  single  hour  in  the  city  of  Jeru-* 
salem.  lie  is  shut  up  in  a  tomb  ;  lie  dwells  in  the  shadow 
of  death ;  lie  belongs  to  the  wretched  and  the  sorrowful ; 
lie  is  the  property  of  the  miserable  ;  He  is  not  for  those 
who  are  in  light  and  joy,  but  for  those  who  are  in  black- 
ness and  grief.  The  consequence  has  been  that  to  think  of 
God  it  has  been  thought  necessary  to  leave  nature,  life, 
business,  art  and  literature,  science  and  beauty,  and  to 
gather  thought  around  that  one  hour  of  crucifixion.  Thus, 
literally,  we  have  been  deprived  of  the  magnetic  power 
that  comes  from  a  conviction  that  God  is  with  the  world. 

Now,  over  against  this  belief  in  a  dying  God  we  set 
the  belief  in  a  Living  God.  A  Living  God.  The  very 
phrase  has  an  ocean  of  light  in  it.  It  is  full  of  aspiration. 
It  gives  us  a  sense  of  buoyancy  only  to  speak  the  words. 
At  once,  the  universe  awTakes  to  joy.  Man  is  a  .human 
creature  again.  He  feels  the  breath  of  divine  energy  sweep- 
ing through  his  daily  affairs.  To  come  from  the  belief  in 
a  dying  God  to  the  belief  in  a  living  God  is  as  when  one, 
after  wandering  for  hours  in  the  depths  of  the  earth,  say 
in  some  mammoth  cave,  groping  about  among  hidden 
rocks,  creeping  along  ledges,  and  crouching  in  the  black- 
ness, scarcely  seeing  in  the  distance  a  little  trail  of  light 
thrown  by  the  guide's  torch,  comes  out  again  into  the 
freshness  and  beauty  of  the  world,  to  hear  the  singing 
birds,  to  see  the  green  grass,  and  the  trees  waving  in  the 
wind.  It  is  as  when  athwart  a  black  cloud  a  beam  of  sun- 
'light  conies  streaming  down  and  gives  a  glory  to  the  land- 
scape. It  is  as  when  after  a  period  of  cold  easterly  storms, 
during  which  people  have  been  shut  up  in  their  houses, 
\]\o,  earth  has  become  saturated  with  water,  the  trees  have 


176  THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

drooped  and  dripped  with  wet,  and  all  nature  Las  seemed 
forlorn,  forsaken,  drowned,  we  wake  up  to  find  a  balmy, 
sweet  dawn.  Then  the  earth  itself  seems  to  throb  with 
new  life.  The  birds  sing,  as  if  they  had  learned  a  new 
hymn  of  praise.  The  drops  of  rain  on  the  leaves  are  clus- 
ters of  diamonds.  Man  himself  iroes  singing  to  his  work. 
The  windows  are  thrown  up  ;  doors  stand  wide  open  ;  men 
go  out  upon  their  steps  to  breathe  the  air ;  the  church 
spires  catch  the  sunbeams  as  they  pour  down  from  the 
sky ;  the  fronts  of  the  hduses  become  beautiful  in  color, 
and  the  atmosphere  seems  oppressed  with  the  task  of  bear- 
ing up  to  Heaven  the  grateful  feelings  of  men. 

The  belief  in  a  living  God  restores  God  to  the  world  ; 
makes  him  a  part  of  it ;  constitutes  him  the  grand  work- 
ing force  in  it.  It  makes  him  the  God  of  business:  the 
God  of  recreation ;  the  God  of  the  exchange  and  the 
market ;  the  God  of  the  railway  and  the  ship  ;  the  God 
of  literature  and  art,  of  science  and  of  progress.  It  puts 
him  down  here  in  the  front  rank  of  men.  The  humanita- 
rian does  that  service  for  Jesus  when  in  the  place  of  a 
dying  God  he  makes  him  a  simple,  living  soul.  Think  of 
Jesus  as  a  dying  God,  and  your  thoughts  go  back  mourn- 
fully to  Calvary  ;  you  shed  tears ;  you  kneel  down  in  the 
dust  of  Gethsemane  ;  you  hear  his  prayer,  "  Father,  thy 
will,  not  mine,  be  done."  Your  thoughts  are  drawn  away 
from  domestic  life,  teaching,  professions,  whatever  you  may 
be  doing,  and  are  gathered  up  in  a  melancholy  mood  about 
the  suffering  King.  Take  Jesus  now  into  the  race;  make 
him  a  man,  a  simple,  living  man;  put  him  here;  take 
him  into  your  shop;  meet  him  on  the  street;  associate 
him  with  your  labor,  with  pleasure  and  care  ;  at  once  you 
have  the  the  whole  benefit  of  his  being.  The  full  weight 
of  his  Hie  is  thrown  into  your  scale.  His  spirit  is  in  your 
hear!.    You  have  the  bencfil  of  nil  that  be  was,  and  all  that 


THE  DYING  AND  TIIE  LIVING  GOD.  177 

he  know.  The  orthodox  presses  a  dying  God  to  his  imag- 
ination ;  the  humanitarian  has  a  living  God  at  his  side. 
There  is  the  difference.  The  evangelical  worships  a  dying 
Christ  in  his  church;  the  rationalist  goes  hand  in  hand 
with  a  living  Jesus  to  his  labor.  Just  what  is  done  for 
the  world  by  substituting  a  living  man  for  a  dying  deity, 
a  living  Jesus  for  a  dying  Christ,  that  is  done  when 
we  substitute  a  living  for  a  dying  God.  We  give  God 
to  the  world.  We  make  him  the  life  of  the  world — the 
limngest  life  of  the  world.  We  throw  the  whole  momen- 
tum of  his  omnipotence  into  the  scale  of  our  endeavors. 

Where  will  you  go  to  seek  the  life  of  the  age  ?  The  liv- 
ing age — where  is  it  ?  You  will  not  seek  it  in  Wall  street 
or  on  Broadway.  It  is  not  necessarily  commerce,  or 
finance,  or  politics,  or  business.  All  these  things  help  the 
life  of  the  age,  but  the  life  of  the  age  is  the  effort  of  the 
age  to  create  a  perfect  society.  It  is  the  endeavor  to  over- 
come evil,  to  cast  out  mischief,  to  reform  the  wrong,  and 
relieve  the  wretchedness  of  the  world.  Everything  that 
does  this  partakes  of  the  life  of  the  age.  Commerce  does ; 
so  does  traffic,  and  invention,  and  business,  and  art,  and 
science,  in  proportion  as  they  help  on  this  great  result. 
But  the  living  part  of  the  age  is  that  part  of  human  thought, 
purpose  and  feeling,  that  goes  to  make  society  better. 
How  will  you  define  a  living  man  ?  It  is  not  the  mart  who 
is  in  robust  health.  He  may  be  very  dead  indeed.  Many 
a  man  is  of  most  rugged  health,  of  blooming  complexion, 
never  tired,  sleeps  perfectly,  always  digests  his  food,  and 
yet  is  a  living  grave.  A  smart  business  man  is  not  neces- 
sarily a  living  man.  The  best  part  of  him  may  be  de- 
ceased, in  spite  of  his  smartness.  His  conscience  may  be 
deader  than  dead,  and  his  sonl  may  never  have  been  alive. 
He  may  be  dead  and  buried.  Your  bright  politician  is  not 
necessarily  a  living  man.     Not  of  necessity  does  he  have 

8* 


178  THE  DYING  AND  TEE  LIVING  GOD. 

anything  to  do  with  living  tilings.  He  may  be  a  corpse 
and  the  maker  of  corpses.  lie  may  be  one  of  the  sextons 
of  civilization  ;  one  of  the  grave-diggers  of  humanity,  as 
too  often  he  is.  A  living  man  is  one  whose  life  is  in  the 
effort  to  make  society  better ;  to  render  the  world  better 
worth  living  in ;  to  advance  its  improvement  and  help  its 
progress.  A  living  man  is  a  man  who,  whatever  he  does, 
whether  he  be  merchant  or  manufacturer,  engineer,  trader 
or  artist,  acts,  with  the  purpose  through  his  acting,  to 
make  men  kinder,  juster,  sweeter  and  fairer  than  they  are 
now. 

Such  is  the  life  of  the  age,  and  such  is  a  living  man. 
JSTow  what  is  a  living  God  ?  It  is  a  God  who  is  living  in 
this  same  sense  ;  a  God  who  is  associated  with  our  effort  to 
make  society  what  it  ought  to  be — just,  pure,  kind,  fair, 
and  sweet.  And  it  is  in  vain  to  think  of  any  other  God  as 
living;  idly  do  you  speak  of  a  God  that  did  live.  Jeho- 
vah's name  was  I  am;  not  I  was,  not  I  shall  he,  but  I  am. 
God  is.  The  living  God  is  the  God  that  is.  Vainly  will 
you  seek  him  in  the  past,  you  are  not  in  the  past ;  vainly 
will  you  anticipate  finding  him  in  the  future,  you  are  not  in 
the  future ;  vainly  will  you  think  of  him  as  being  in  Heav- 
en, you  are  not  in  Heaven ;  or  in  the  abyss,  you  are  not  in 
the  abyss.  You  are  here,  this  moment,  on  the  face  of  the 
globe.  Men  may  say,  "  lo  here,  lo  there,"  do  not  believe 
it ;  "  he  is  in  the  desert,"  follow  not  after  him.  Xothing 
makes  one  feel  the  living  God  but  the  sense  that  one  is 
himself  alive.  It  is  perfectly  useless  to  try  to  get  at  a  liv- 
ing God  except  by  living;  useless  is  the  wisdom  of  the 
wise;  of  no  avail' the  vision  of  the  seraph.  The  living 
God  is  the  God  who  is  living  with  living  men  and  in  a  liv- 
ing age.  He  is  with  the  lawyer  who  is  trying  to  make 
justice  the  rule  of  human  dealing.  He  is  with  the  phy- 
sician who  is  trying  to  eradicate  the  seeds  of  disease.     He 


THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD.  179 

is  with  the  preacher  who  forgets  himself  in  his  truth.  He 
is  with  the  philanthropist  who  loves  his  fellow-men  better 
than  he  loves  himself.  lie  is  with  .the  reformer  who  is  re- 
forming according  to  a  principle,  and  not  according  to  a 
crotchet.  He  is  with  the  merchant  who  is  opening  new 
avenues  of  communication  between  the  families  of  man- 
kind, lie  is  with  the  trader  who  is  passing  round  the 
gifts  of  providence  among  all  the  members  of  the  human 
race.  He  is  with  the  artist  who  reproduces  the  most  per- 
fect beauty.  He  -is  with  the  musician  who  puts  into  his 
song  a  strain  of  light  and  hope.  He  is  with  the  man  of 
science  who  is  organizing  the  strong  facts  of  creation.  He 
is  with  the  literary  man  who  is  expressing  truth  in  .forms 
of,beauty.  He  is  with  the  conservative  who  will  hold  on 
to  all  the  good  there  is,  and  with  the  radical  who  will  eradi- 
cate all  the  evil.  lie  is  with  all  men,  of  whatever  degree, 
of  whatever  station,  who  are  doing  something  to  add  a  lit- 
tle spark  to  the  blaze  which  is  to  consume  the  rubbish  of 
human  experience. 

The  living  God  is  a  human  God.  Swedenborg  sa}^s : 
God  is  a  man,  and  that  man  is  Christ.  We  say  God  is  not 
a  man,  but  the  human  in  all  men.  God  is  the  human 
power,  the  human  element,  the  element  which  uplifts, 
inspires,  impels  forward  to  brighter  and  better  futures. 
Man's  justice  is  God's  justice.  Man's  compassion  is  God's 
compassion.  Man's  kindness  is  God's  kindness.  When 
man  forgives,  God  forgives.  When  man  absolves,  God 
absolves.  All  God's  attributes  are  human  attributes,  and 
they  are  living  as  they  live  in  us,  not  as  they  live  out  of 
us.  The  very  unity  of  God  is  one  with  our  unity.  Is 
God  one  while  his  family  are  a  thousand  ?  Does  not  all 
the  recklessness,  and  hate,  and  quarrel,  and  discord  of  the 
world  break  up  into  pieces  our  conception  of  the  divine 
unity?     Of  course  it  does;  for   it  suggests   a   kingdom 


180  TUE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD. 

divided  against  itself.     God  lives  when  man  lives.     God' 
lives  in  the  human  heart ;  when  the  heart  begins  to  throb 
and   beat,   his   heart    throbs  and  beats ;    and    when   the 
human  heart  dies,  then,  and  then  only,  God  expires. 

This  is  no  speculative  thing  that  I  have  been  saying ;  it 
is  of  immense  practical  moment.  If,  a  few  years  ago,  the 
Bible  could  have  been  set  steadily  on  the  side  of  those  who 
were  working  in  this  country  for  freedom,  our  war  would 
have  been  rendered  entirely  unnecessary  ;  the  mere  fact 
that  the  Bible,  the  so-called  Word  of  God,  ranked  itself 
with  liberty,  light,  justice,  would  have  thrown  the  pre- 
ponderating weight  of  the  religious  sentiment  into  that 
scale,  and  would  have  secured  victory.  If  the  Bible 
could  be  planted  fairly  and  squarely  on  the  side  of  those 
who  contend  for  the  social  rights  and  privileges  of  women, 
for  the .  improvement  of  the  condition  of  the  working 
classes,  for  reform  in  civil  and  criminal  jurisprudence, 
these  things  would  be  carried,  simply  because  those  who 
put  their  faith  in  the  Bible,  believing  it  to  be  the  revealed 
Word  of  God,  would  rally  to  these  causes.  So,  if  we 
could  take  this  great  thought  of  God,  fraught  as  it  is  with 
inspiration,  full  as  it  is  of  light  and  life,  of  hope  and 
purpose  ;  if  we  could,  I  say,  take  this  thought  and  associate 
it  with  all  Ave  believe  of  truest,  all  we  hope  of  dearest,  all 
Ave  purpose  of  best,  then  all  this  belief,  hoj^e,  and  purpose 
would  be  charged  with  the  very  spirit  of  victory. 

Over  against  one  of  these  beliefs,  therefore,  I  set  the 
other.  The  one  belief  looks  to  the  past ;  the  other  has 
its  eye  on  the  future.  The  one  belief  cowers  before  God  ; 
the  other  stands  erect  and  looks  him  in  the  face.  The 
one  belief  is  fighting  always  with  the  devil ;  the  other 
greets  the  coming  of  the  angels.  The  one  belief  begs  its 
way  into  Heaven ;  the  other  runs  thither  with  jubilant 
feet.     The  one  belief  shndders  in  the  presence  of  hell ; 


THE  DYING  AND  THE  LIVING  GOD.  ISi 

the  other  smiles  in  the  presence  of  heaven.  .  The  one  be- 
lief counts  over  the  sins  and  perplexities,  the  ills  and  dis- 
advantages of  life  ;  the  other  counts  over  its  benefits  and 
benedictions,  its  privileges  and  its  pleasures.  The  one  belief 
is  full  of  awe  ;  the  other  is  the  very  incarnation  of  hope. 
A  poor  woman  the  other  day  came  to  me  and  said :  "  I 
want  you  to  help  us — myself,  my  husband,  and  my  child." 
I  asked  her  what  was  her  need,  and  she  told  me  their 
history.  "  Are  you  connected  with  no  church  ? "  I  in- 
quired. "  No."  "  Have  you  never  been  ? "  "  Yes." 
"Where  do  you  belong?"  "My  husband  is  a  Unitarian 
and  I  am  a  Catholic."  "  Will  the  Catholics  do  nothing 
for  you?"  "  Well,  the  truth  is,  neither  of  us  have  had 
anything  to  do  with  religion  for  a  long  time.  We  were 
prosperous  once,  and  happy  :  now  we  have  fallen  upon 
evil  times,  and  we  think  of  God."  Why  did  they  not 
think  of  God  in  happy  times  ?  Why  did  they  not  asso- 
ciate God  with  their  felicity,  and  success,  and  prosperity  ? 
Why,  when  everything  went  well,  was  not  God  hopeful- 
ness in  their  heart,  and  energy  in  their  will  ?  It  was  be- 
becarase  he  was  not,  and  because  in  their  hopeful  and 
happy  times  they  were  simply  selfish,  thought  only  of 
themselves,  never  cared  to  form  tine  relationships,  or  to 
make  earnest  friends,  that,  therefore.,  they  were  left 
wretched  and  dismayed.  Must  we  always  be  scourged  to 
the  banquet  of  life?  Must  we  always  be  dragged  into 
heaven  by  the  hair  of  our  heads?  Will  it  never  be 
enough  that  beauty,  and  privilege,  and  opportunity  are  all 
before  us,  but  wc  mu^t  be  goaded  to  them  by  the  fiends  ? 
Time  has  been  when  fear  and  darkness  were  the  spirits 
that-saved  the  world.  In  the  time  to  come  the  world  will 
be  saved  by  light,  and  joy,  and  hope. 


XL 

THE  INFEKNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOYE. 

He  that  findeth  his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  he  that  loseth  his  life  for 
my  sake  shall  find  it.     Matthew  x.  39. 

THIS  is  one  of  those  paradoxes  which  are  familiar  in. 
the'  language  of  the  East,  and  which  Jesus  was  espe- 
cially fond  of  using  to  impress  his  thought  the  deeper  upon 
the  minds  of  his  hearers  by  shocking  them  into  considera- 
tion of  its  meaning.  There  are  two  readings  of  .the  pass- 
age. In  the  gospel  of  John  the  version  stands,  "  He  that 
loveth  his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  he  that  hateth  his  life  in 
this  world,  shall  keep  it  unto  life  eternal."  ^There  are 
two  interpretations  of  the  passage  : 

First — He  who  exposes  himself  to  danger  and  to  death 
for  my  sake  shall  inherit  praise,  honor,  and  emolument, 
when  I  come  again  in  my  kingdom. 

Second — He  that  lives  a  life  of  self-denial  in  this  world 
shall  have  his  reward  in  the  world  to  come. 

But  there 'is  another  interpretation  that  goes  deeper 
than  cither  of  these,  and  in  my  judgment  is  much  truer, 
lie.  that  denies  his  lower  love  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of 
his  higher.  He  that  puts  away  passion  shall  enjoy  princi- 
ple, lie  that  abandons  the  life  of  desire  shall  enter  into 
the  life  of  spiritual  joy. 

The  life  of  a  man  is  the  love  of  the  man  ;  the  love  of 
the  man  is  his  life.  The  words  love  and  life  are  closely 
connected  in  their rool  ;  and  if  we  substitute  in  these  pass- 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.     183 

ages  the  word  love  for  the  word  life,  a  world  of  meaning 
is  at  once  unfolded  to  us  that  otherwise  we  miss ;  because 
the  word  love  drives  the  thought  inward  and  keeps  it  there, 
while  the  word  life  throws  the  thought  outward  and  leaves 
it  there.  We  think  of  life  as  a  thing  of  duration  and 
extension  in  space  and  time.  We  think  of  love  only  as  a 
state  or  condition  of  feeling.  We  speak  of  present  life, 
past  life,  future  life,  of  the  life  here  and  the  life  hereafter, 
of  this  life  and  the  next  life  ;  but  of  love  we  only  say  it 
is  better  or  it  is  worse ;  it  is  higher  or  lower ;  it  is  on  the 
animal  plane  or  the  spiritual  plane.  In  a  word,  love  is  a 
thing  of  qualities ;  life  is  a  thing  of  quantities. 

Now,  speaking  of  love,  we  find  that  it  has  a  double 
action ;  one  a  self-referring,  another  social  or  human,  re- 
ferring to  others.  The  planets  are  kept  in  order,  you 
know,  by  a  double  force ;  the  centre-seeking,  the  centrip- 
etal force,  as  it*is  called,  which  is  always  drawing  the 
planet  to  its  central  orb ;  the  centrifugal  or  centre-avoid- 
ing force,  that  drives  the  globe  away  from  the  centre. 
Either  of  these  forces  acting  alone  would  destroy  the 
planet.  The  centripetal  force,  acting  alone,  would,  by 
and  by,  mass  the  planets  together,  and  at  last  absorb  them 
all  in  the  sun.  The  centrifugal  force,  acting  alone,  would 
scatter  them  widely  apart  and  fling  them  into  the  vast 
inane,  w^iere  they  would  be  hopelessly  lost ;  there  would 
be  no  more  solar  system.  The  action  of  both  together 
keeps  the  planet  in  its  place,  steadily  whirling  round  its 
centre  and  fulfilling  its  part  in  the  divine  decrees.  So  it 
is  with  this  thing  that  we  call  love.  At  first  it  is  a  pas- 
sion. Man,  in  one  aspect,  is  a  mere  organic  creature. 
Ik-  is  the  last  development  of  the  material  world;  a  child  of 
the  mineral  and  vegetable  ;  developed  out  of  the  ground; 
a  bundle  of  propensities  and  instincts.  His  life  isorganie  and 
simple,  like  the  life  of  a  tree  or  a  plant.    He  is  a  creature  of 


184      TIIE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. 

material  circumstances  and  elements.  As  such  lie  is  inevit- 
ably self-seeking.  Through  his  five  senses  man  is  doinghis 
best  all  the  time  to  draw  in  all  the  world.  His  eye  seeks 
beauty  in  every  part  of  the  globe ;  in  the  ground,  in  the 
skies,  in  the  sunlight  and  the  shadow,  in  the  faces  of  his 
companions,  in  the  landscape.  "  His  eye  dismounts  the 
highest  star,"  as  old  George  Herbert  so  beautifully  says. 
And,  not  satisfied  with  finding  beauty  every  where,  it  must 
appropriate  beauty  everywhere.  It  will  draw  it  in  and 
make  it  its  own.  Man  catches  the  sunlight  and  weaves  it 
into  his  fine  fabrics  and  tissues,  his  carpets,  his  drapery, 
paints  it  on  the  canvas,  carves  it  in  the  marble  statue,  in- 
sists on  having  domesticated  in  his  house  all  the  glories  of 
the  outer  world. 

The  ear !  how  it  drinks  in  sounds  ;  how  keen  it  is ;  how 
devouring  it  is  !  All  voices  come  to  it.  It  will  invent 
instruments  to  make  itself  keener.  !r%t  satisfied  with 
hearing  the  sounds  in  nature,  it  manufactures  instruments 
for  reproducing  them.  Music  is  its  creature.  It  builds 
the  organ  with  its  array  of  golden  pipes ;  it  fashions 
instruments  of  brass  and  the  stringed  instruments  ;  it 
brings  together  the  orchestras  that  enchant  us  with  their 
music. 

The  sense  of  smell  has  narrower  range,  yet  how  greedy 
it  is  !  All  odors  come  to  it.  It  extracts  the  sweetest  scent 
from  the  foulest  things  ;  it  is  not  content  until  it  puts  on 
our  toilet-tables  the  fragrance  of  the  violet  and  the  odor  of 
the  newly-mown  hay. 

The  taste  !  What  a  craving  creature  that  is  !  TV  hat  an 
explorer !  How  it  sends  its  purveyors  out  into  the  most 
distant  parts  of  the  creation,  dispatches  its  divers  down 
into  the  sea,  drops  its  line  deep  into  the  ocean,  lays  snares 
for  the  birds  of  the  air.  What  a  plunderer  it  is  of  the 
vegetable  and  animal  kingdom  !     How  it  consumes  and 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE..   185 

slays  !  "What  devastation  it  makes  everywhere,  and  what 
a  keen  power  it  has  of  extracting  delicacies  from  places 
where  nothing  seemed  to  exist !  How  it  divides  and  sub- 
divides, and  combines  and  compounds,  and  separates  and 
niino-les  and  mixes  !  How  it  uses  the  subtle  element  of 
the  lire  for  its  purposes,  and  what  elixirs  it  extracts  there- 
by ;  what  delicate  tinctures  and  aromas  ! 

The  marvels  of  the  cuisine  are  infinite,  and  man  is 
never  satisfied  with  inventing,  discovering,  combining, 
flavoring,  and  devising  new  shapes  of  delicacy..  There  is 
no  end  to  it.  It  goes  vastly  before  human  need.  We  are 
never  content  with  the  things  that  our  senses  can  bring  in 
to  us.  The  Emperor  Yitellius  had  but  one  stomach ;  he 
could  eat  no  more  than  the  humblest  of  his  guards ;  yet 
he  spent  one  million  of  dollars  every  week  on  his  table. 
Tie  did  not  need  it ;  it  was  the  worse  for  him ;  it  made 
him  sick ;  it  helped  to  kill  him  at  last,  and  it  earned  for 
him  the  nickname  of  the  "  hog  Vitellius." 

Insatiable  are  these  senses  of  ours.  We  build  cities  ; 
we  form  lines  of  commerce ;  we  clothe  ourselves  with 
silk,  and  satin,  and  velvet ;  we  construct  vast  ships.  Yet 
our  ships  are  only  larger  baskets  ;  our  silk,  and  satin,  and 
velvet  are  only  a  handsomer  kind  of  blanket ;  our  vast 
commercial  cities  are  but  more  superb  shops  and  ware- 
houses ;  our  great  ports  of  entry  are  simply  broader  door- 
steps; and  all  our  vast  carrying-trade  with  fleets  of  ships 
is  o\\\j  a  more  elaborate  peddling.  .    • 

Push  the  metaphor  further.  Take"  the  passions.  There 
is  the  love  of  power.  Can  anybody  describe  its  voracity  ? 
Did  anybody  ever  have  enough  of  it?  Was  there  ever  a 
man  having  the  most  of  it  who  did  not  want  more?  The 
priest  is  never  content  with  the  power  he  has  over  human 
souls.  The  despot  is  never  satisfied  with  the  power  that 
lie  has  over  human  relations  and  conditions.     The  rich 


ISO      THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. 

man  is  never  satiated  with  the  power  lie  lias  over  tlie 
poor.  Tlie  tyrant  is  never  weary  of  grinding.  The  con- 
queror is  never  tired  of  absorbing.  Alexander  the  Great 
was  not  the  only  man  who  sighed  because  there  were  no 
more  worlds  for  him  to  conquer.  Every  man  who  has 
this  last  for  power  sighs  for  precisely  the  same  thing. 
Napoleon  sighed  for  it,  and  the  present  Napoleon,  though 
a  sick  man,  doomed  probably  within  a  few  months  to  die — 
a  man  without  a  dynasty — has  such  a  passionate  greed  for 
the  power  that  lie  has  gained  that  he  will  not  loosen  the 
reins  that  his  hand  holds,  or  give,  in  conformity  with  his 
own  promises,  the  freedom  he  has  pledged  to  the  people. 
The  Pope  of  Home,  an  old  man  near  his  grave,  at  the  head 
of  an  institution  that  is  doomed  b}r  destiny  to  fall,  reaches 
out  both  his  hands  and  calls  upon  the  whole  civilized  world 
to  grant  him  more  power  over  souls,  more  power  over 
states.  He  must  regulate  public  education  and  control 
the  national  and  state  politics  even  in  America.  And  the 
more  power  a  man  has  the  more  selfishly  he  uses  it.  This 
passion  for  power  has  been  the  curse  of  mankind.  All 
the  devastating  wars  have  sprung  from  it ;  the  gigantic 
slaveries  have  been  of  its  offspring ;  it  has  ravaged  peoples ; 
it  has  exterminated  tribes ;  it  has  ruined  empires ;  it  has 
blasted  states;  it  has  kept  the  interior  races  from  develop- 
ing themselves;  it  has  exterminated  children  ;  it  has  sub- 
jugated women;  it  has  gone  on  pillaging  and  plundering 
as  if  the  whole  created  world  was  merely  its  field  of  rav- 
age. There  is  an  infernal  element  in  this  love.  We  need 
not  speak  of  a  hell  hereafter.  We  need  not  speak  of  any 
demoniac  regions  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave.  Why, 
but  a  few  years  ago  we  all.  lived  in  hell  every  day  that  we 
breathed,  and  now,  hellish  beliefs,  hellish  passions,  rule 
over  immense  portions  of  the  earth. 

The  passion  for  wealth,  consider  that!     There  is  love 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  TEE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.     187 

— the  love  of  money.  Did  anybody  ever  estimate  the 
power,  or  capacity,  or  grasp  of  that  ?  Did  anybody  ever 
have  enough,  though  he  had  a  thousand  times  more  than 
he  could  spend  on  himself,  or  than  his  heart  prompted 
him  to  give  away  %  To  get  money  by  fair  means  if  pos- 
sible, by  foul  means  if  necessary,  to  steal  it  if  it  can  be 
had  in  no  other  manner;  to  cheat  for  it;  to  pick  it  out  of 
your  neighbor's  pocket ;  to  contrive,  and  plan,  and  man- 
age, until  what  belongs  to  others  comes  to  you ;  to  get  it 
away  from  the  rich  and  the  poor  ;  to  make  others  poor  in 
order  that  you  may  have  it;  to  be  content  that  others 
should  continue  poor,  in  abject  want,  in  order  that  you 
may  enjoy  it,  is  not  that  the  commonest  experience  of  the 
present,  and  of  the  past  also  ?  And  how  the  endeavor  to 
keep  it,  though  it  be  kept  for  no  end  whatever,  possesses 
people.  The  heart  grows  smaller  as  the  purse  grows  larger. 
The  conscience  dwindles  as  the  dividends  increase.  The 
soul  goes  down  into  the  dust  as  the  fortune  mounts.up  into 
the  air.  The  more  a  man  has  the  less  he  has  to  give.  "He 
will  see  his  poor,  old,  freezing  brother  sufi'er  from  want 
and  misery,  but  he  has  nothing  for  him.  Vainly  the 
widow  comes  to  his  door  in  her  need.  Vainly  the  orphans 
call  to  him  that  they  may  be  preserved  from  ruin.  Vain- 
ly the  poor  man,  whom  fortune  has  stricken  down,  pleads 
for  a  little  relief.  Here  is  an  ignorant  world  asking  for 
means  to  teach  it,  a  sorrowing  world  praying  for  conso- 
lation. Here  are  men  of  science  and  knowledge  who 
have  discovered  the  secret  of  human  prosperity,  and  want 
but  money  to  set  their  grand  machinery  in  motion.  Vain- 
ly do  they  go  to  the  man  who  has  millions  in  his  pocket. 
Why,  think  what  happened  in  Wall  street  only  a  few 
weeks  ago  !  A  few  men  who  were  enormously  rich,  fabu- 
lously rich,  so  rich  that  they  had  nothing  else  to  do  but  to 
get  richer,  so  rich  that  they  wanted  all  the  riehes  theio 


1SS     THE  INFEBNAL  ASD  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. 

were,  buy  up  all  the  gold  (why  shouldn't  tliey  have  "bought 
up  all  the  cotton,  or  the  irou,  or  the  wool,  or  the  grain  ?) 
— buy  up  all  the  gold  and  compel  men  to  purchase  of 
them  at  ruinous  prices.     The  e%ffect  was  disastrous. 

Two  or  three  weeks  ago  there  came  to  me  a  lady,  well- 
nurtured  and  educated,  brought  up  in  luxury,  refinement 
on  her  face,  dignity  in  her  manner,  sweetness  in  her  voice  ; 
she  said,  "  Can  you  do  anything  to  get  me  a  place  where 
I  can  earn  a  little  money  to  support  myself  and  my  chil- 
dren ? "  "Have  you  no  husband?"  I  said.  "Yes,  my 
husband  was  one  of  the  innocent  victims  of  the  gold  panic 
in  "Wall  street,  and  is  a  ruined,  broken  man  ;  I  have  two 
children  who  must  be  educated.  I  must  do  something. 
Can  you  help  me?" 

One  week  ago  to-day  I  attended  the  funeral  of  a  man 
of  culture  and  accomplishment.  He  died  by  a  sudden 
stroke  brought  on  by  intense  excitement,  caused  by  that 
same  crisis,  an  innocent  victim  of  it.  It  had  first  broken 
his  mind,  then  slain  his  body.  There  was  his  widow  left 
without  his  support.  There  were  his  three  daughters 
standing  on  the  very  threshold  of  their  young  life.  And 
all  that  was  due  to  nothing  else  but  this  infernal  love  of 
money.  For  this  poverty  and  wretchedness,  for  this  loss 
of  mind  and  life,  those  few  men  were  answerable.  Did 
they  care?  Would  they  care  if  they  knew  it?  Probably 
not ;  all,  they  cared  for  was  to  amass  money,  no  matter 
what  ruin  heaped  up  the  pile. 

Take  that  other  love  which  bears  the  name  of  love  pre- 
eminently— that  instinctive,  passionate  love  which  plays 
so  large  a  part  in  the  world.  How  voracious,  how  insati- 
able it  is !  What  abysses  of  misery  it  opens !  What 
ravages  and  wrecks  it  makes!  I  need  not  describe  it  to 
yon.  There  is  one  demonstration  of  it  which,  unfortunate- 
ly, we  are  never  allowed  to  lose  sight  of.    This  passion  has 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.     189 

created  a  class  which,  is,  of  all  classes  in  society  the  most 
pitiable  ;  a  class  of  women  which  has  always  existed,  which 
exists  now  in  undiminished  numbers,  and,  for  aught  that 
any  of  us  can  see,  will  continue  to  exist  for  generations 
and  generations  to  come ;  a  class  of  women  who  are  the 
despair  of  society ;  "whom  we  do 'not  know  what  to  do  with 
or  what  to  do  for ;  whom  law  and  gospel  alike  stand  aghast 
before  ;  whom  modesty  never  speaks  of  and  purity  never 
thinks  of ;  whom  holiness  looks  down  upon  with  horror 
and  pity  turns  away  from  in  disgust ;  whom  even  mercy 
hardly  dares  to  compassionate,  and  philanthrophy  is  ready 
to  abandon  the  hope  that  it  can  help.  The  utmost  that 
society,  now  so  many  thousand  years  old,  has  learned  to 
do  for  these  unfortunates  is  to  draw  a  line  about  them,  to 
put  them  under  supervision  and  control,  that  the  poison  of 
their  infection  may  not  eat  too  deeply  into  the  heart  of* 
society.  Their  life  is  one  game  of  hypocrisy;  they  make 
believe  smile  out  of  a  cold  and  dead  heart;  counterfeit 
raptures  that  have  long  been  impossible  to  them  ;  imitate 
a  love  which  they  do  not  feel ;  pretend  to  be  gay  when 
their  soul  is  full  of  despair.  Women  they  are,  doomed  to 
early  blight,- decay,  and  premature  death,  nnpitied,  un- 
blest,  unwept  for,  unprayed  for.  They  haunt  the  night  in 
the  cities,  proud  when  they  are  insulted,  and  only  grateful 
when  their  womanhood  is  scorned;  a  class  of  unfortunates 
— so  unfortunate  that  every  heart  bleeds  to  think  of  them 
- — victims  of  this  all-devouring  passion ;  may  we  not  say 
priestesses,  sad  priestesses,  who  sacrifice  themselves  on  this 
frightful  altar  ;  nay,  march  into  the  fire  to  be  burned,  that 
society  may  be  spared  the  rain,  the  devastation,  and  the 
shame  which  this  consuming  flame  would  otherwise  cause. 
Is  there  not  an  infernal  element  here  !  Is  there  no  hell 
here  ?  Walking  about  in  our  streets,  living  in  adjacent 
houses  often,  a  hell  so  deep,  so  utter,  so  black  that  no  poet 


100    TEE  INFERNAL  AND  TEE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. 

like  Mil  ton  has  ever  been  able  to  paint  it,  no  theologian 
like  Jonathan  Edwards  has  ever  been  powerful  enough  to 
describe  it. 

This  is  the  infernal  love ;  a  love  that  is  altogether 
exorbitant,  that  overflows  all  uses  and  all  needs  in  every 
direction.  It  does  not  and  can  not  control  itself.  Unless 
there  were  some  controlling  force,  some  counteracting 
feeling,  it  would  bring  the  race  to  destruction.  But  here 
comes  in  the  merciful  provision  of  Providence.  To 
balance  the  centripetal  power  which  always  seeks  self, 
there  is  provided  the  centrifugal  force  that  throws  the 
spirit  out  among  mankind.  To  counteract,  the  selfish 
force  is  the  human  force.  Over  against  the  all-devouring 
love  is  the  all-embracing  and  beneficent  love  of  heaven. 

What,  then,  are  these  forces  that  I  comprehend  under 
the  term  the  celestial  love  ?  God  has  garnered  them  np 
in  institutions. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  institution  of  marriage;  a 
divine  institution  grounded  in  the  nature  of  things, 
instituted  in  the  laws  of  human  nature,  sanctified  by  all 
that  is  purest,  sweetest,  and  best  in  human  life,  and  de- 
manded by  the  exigencies  of  human  society.  The  object 
of  this  institution  is  to  hold  mankind  together.  It  takes 
a  little  group  of  people,  the  man,  the  woman,  the  brother, 
the  sister,  children^  and  holds  them  by  a  bond  that  can  not 
be  dissolved ;  compels  them,  as  it  were,  by  their  love  for 
one  another,  to  deny  themselves  for  the  sake  of  those  they 
live  with.  The  strong  must  help  the  weak.  The  weak 
may  lean  on  the  strong.  The  wise  must  teach  the  foolish. 
The  simple  may  come  for  advice  and  counsel  to  the  wise. 
The  man  anil  the  woman  complement  each  other.  The 
great  and  the  little  live  by  mutual  support.  One  common 
bond  exercises  such  a  control  over  the  members  of  this 
outer  world  that  whatever  difference  may  exist  in  age, 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.    191 

taste,  culture,  disposition,  temperament,  they  are  still  vir- 
tually, to  all  appearances  and  to  all  designs,  one  person. 
This  is  the  intent  of  marriage,  to  educate  in  humanity. 
There  must  be  self-denial ;  patience  is  imperative.  There 
is  a  great  deal  to  bear  and  forbear,  and  it  is  made  indis- 
pensable. Woe  be  unto  those  who  would  break  up  or 
weaken  this  institution  of  God  !  Woe  be  unto'  those  who, 
in  the  interest  of  an  animal  individualism,  would  disin- 
tegrate this  fine  communion !  Woe  be  unto  those  who 
preach  the  gospel  of  instinct,  passion,  desire,  who  pro- 
claim the  philosophy  of  elective  affinities,  teach  the  sanc- 
tity of  impulse,  the  authority  of  caprice,  and  say  that  what 
men  have  a  right  to,  and  all  they  need  to  insist  on,  is 
that  they  shall  enjoy  themselves,  at  whatever  expense  to 
society.  They  who  seek  to  undermine  this. institution,  or 
who  disseminate  views  that  are  fatal  to  it,  think  they  are  re- 
moving a  superficial  disadvantage  and  sorrow.  They  are 
striving  to  beget  a'permanent  disadvantage  and  a  sorrow 
that  the  world  will  never  cease  deploring.  They  are 
defeating  the  great  providences  of  God.  They  are  up- 
heaving the  basis  of  society.  They  are  doing  away  with 
that  fine  moral  and -personal  education  which  is  indis- 
pensable to  the  training  of  men  and  women  in  courtesy 
and  kindness,  in  free  charity  and  brotherly  love.  We 
know  very  well  and  admit  very  sadly  that  the  system  does 
not  work  perfectly.  What  system  does?  AVe  know  very 
well  that  marriage  is  often  an  occasion  for  tyranny  and 
selfishness.  We  know  very  well  that  there  may  be 
despotism  in  the  home,  with  misery,  fretting,  suffering, 
sorrow,  more  to  bear  than  can  be  borne,  more  to  forbear 
than  can  be  done.  We  feel  all  the  time  how  infinitely 
far  this  divine  institution  is  from  accomplishing  its  per- 
fect end.  Do  we  not  know  that  wives  are  wretched,  that 
husbands   are   untrue,   that  children   are  neglected,   are 


192  ■   THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. 

spoiled,  left  without  training,  in  ignorance  and  willful- 
ness? Do  we  not  know  that  sorrows  arc  engendered 
there  which  nothing  apparently  can  heal  ?  And  yet  we 
all  know  that,  if  there  is  any  sweetness  in  human  life,  it 
is  due  in  a  large  measure  to  this  institution  of  marriage. 
It  is  the  parent  of  the  best  comfort,  the  sweetest  luxury, 
the  most  permanent  and  satisfactory  content  that  the 
world  enjoys.  There  are  homes  that  are  heavens.  There 
is  paradise  at  the  feet  of  mothers  and  fathers.  There  is 
education  and  training  in  all  nobleness  within  the  four 
domestic  walls,  and  there  is  not  much  of  this  outside  of 
them.  There  are  examples  of  dignity  and  elevation  and 
even  saintliness  there  which  stand  at  the  top  of  all  human 
expedience.  The  mother  bending  over  her  sick  child  to 
save  its  life,  giving  up  everything,  forsaking  the  world, 
watching  all  night,  anxious  all  day,  toiling  and  angulsh- 
ing'continuaily  that  the  spark  of  life  may  be  kept  in  that 
little  frame — is  still  the  type  of  the  purest  disinterested- 
ness that  men  have  imagined.  And  the  picture  of  a 
father  bearing  with  his  misbehaving  son,  watching  for 
him,  praying  for  him,  thinking  of  him  when  he  has  gone 
astray,  waiting  for  him  to  come  back,  seeing  him  from 
afar,  running  to  him,  throwing  his  arms  about  his  neck 
and  kissing  the  poor  prodigal,  putting  the  best  ring  on  his 
finger,  shoes  on  his  feet,  fresh  garments  on  his  wasted  and 
haggard  form,  and  telling  men  to  kill  the  fatted  calf  and 
feast,  because  he  is  returned  safe  and  sound, — why,  it  is 
the  image  of  the  parental  providence  itself!  Christ 
could  think  of  nothing  more  divine  than  that.  When  we 
see  parents,  as  we  sometimes  do,  caring  for  some  poor 
child  to  whom  they  have  given  .birth,  and  to  whom  life 
has  been  only  a  weariness  and  a  sorrow,  trying  to  make  it 
easier  for  him,  to  smooth  his  way,  to  furnish  occupation 
for  his  hands,  to  give  some  pleasure  to  his  heart,  to  open 


THE  INFE11NAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.     193 

little  glimpses  of  a  better  world  to  liis  anticipation;  when 
we  see  how  the  heart  softens  and  sweetens,  how  passions 
become  chastened  and  the  mind  becomes  subdued,  how 
meekness  and  patience  and  loveliness  steal  into  the  spirit, 
then  we  say  God  bless  the  institution  that  can  so  trans- 
figure weakness,  and  want,  and  pain,  and  sorrow,  and  can 
make  our  poor  dependent  human  nature  come  so  near  to 
heaven  even  in  the  hardest  experiences  of  earth  ! 

I  know  that  the  discipline  of  the  home  is  not  always 
wise ;  that  the  relation  of  marriage  is  sometimes  narrow- 
ing. The  household  is  limited.  It  is  a  small  group.  It 
is  so  in  the  nature  of  things.  We  all  know  very  well  that 
men  and  women  become  so  interested  in  their  homes,  in 
building  up  their  families,  caring  for  the  wants  of  their 
own  little  circle,  that  they  forget  the  large  world  outside. 
Certainly.  It  must  be  so.  Marriage  is  not  the  only  insti- 
tution in  the  world.  It  is  not  the  only  educator  that  there 
is.  If  Providence  had  stopped  here,  we  might  object 
that  marriage  was  an  insufficient  institution.  It  is.  But 
it  is  supplemented  b.y  another,  and  this  other,  the  next 
institution  by  which  God  tries  to  check,  control,  and  edu- 
cate this  selfish,  passionate  nature  of  ours,  is  the  institu- 
tion of  Society. 

We  do  not  make  society.  It  is  not  a  manufacture.  It 
is  not  a  device  of  human  wit  and  wisdom.  It  is  not 
something  that  we  have  invented  and  set  going,  a  machine 
that  we  wind  up  and  allow  to  run.  It  is  an  organic  crea- 
ture, the  growth  of  ages.  It  is  a  being,  indeed,  made  up 
of  all  beings  together.  It  has  its  roots  deep  down  in  the 
past.  Its  branches  spread  wide  in  the  heavens  of  the 
future.  It  is  so  comprehensive  that  it  embraces  every 
rational  creature  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  our  life. 
Who  is  so  great  as  to  transcend  it  ?  Who  is  so  little  as  to 
be  out  of   its  reach  ?     The   greatest   depends   upon   the 

9 


101     THE  INFERNAL'  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. 

smallest.  There  is  no  emperor,  king,  or  queen,  no  noble 
or  prince,  no  magnate,  no  millionaire,  financier,  banker, 
no  great  genius  in  literature,  no  great  poet  or  historian, 
no  intellect  however  vast,  no  soul  however  tender,  that  is 
not  indebted  to  the  smallest  and  meanest  creature  that 
crawls  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  emperor  on  his 
throne  is  dependent  upon  the  ditcher,  the  delver,  the 
drudge,  upon  the  mason,  the  carpenter,  the  builder,  the 
farmer  who  holds  the  land,  the  tiller  of  the  ground. 
There  is  no  epieen  in  her  robes  of  state  who  is  not  in- 
debted, to  the  poor  sewing  woman  in  her  garret,  passing 
her  days  and  nights'  singing  in  her  heart  the  dreary  song 
of  work.  And,  again,  there  is  none  of  these,  no  poor 
woman,  no  sad-eyed,  broken-hearted  girl,  no  ditcher, 
no  drudge,  no  delver,  that  is  not  every. day  dependent 
upon  the  great  and  high  ones  who  sit  above.  The  atmos- 
phere of  genius  finds  its  way  to  them.  The  soul  of  good- 
ness reaches  down  into  their  darkness,  and  the  spirits  that 
dwell  nearest  the  eternal  throne  pass  their  air  and  sun- 
shine down  to  these  roots  that  live  below  the  ground. 

Let  any  man  try  to  get  away  from  society  if  he  can. 
Let  any  man  try  to  fly  in  the  face  of  society,  and  see  how 
instantly  he  is  ground  into  the  dust.  Nay,  let  society  try 
to  get  rid  of  any  portion  of  its  own  organic  structure,  and 
then  see  what  ruin  and  devastation  ensue.  Society  is  one 
living,  vital,  organic  structure,  with  veins  spreading  out 
in  every  part,  with  great  arteries  swelling  with  red  cur- 
rents of  blood.  There  it  is,  living  and  beating  with  the 
very  spirit  of  the  Eternal  in  it  all  the  time.  It  does  not 
do  its  work  perfectly.  Its  intention  is  to  overcome  the 
selfish  desires  of  men  by  making  them  love  their  neighbor, 
feel  how  closely  they  are  bound  in  with  others,  help  the 
helpless,  teach  the  simple,  lift  up  those  who  are  cast  down, 
serve  those  who  are  above  them,  offer  their  tribute  to  the 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.    195 

noble  and  the  good,  make  their  contribution  to  the  intel- 
lectual, the  moral,  or  the  material  wealth  of  mankind. 
That  is  the  purpose  of  it — a  purpose  to  educate  men,  to 
discipline  them,  to  subdue  their  weaknesses,  their  levity, 
and  their  foolishness.  It  does  not  do  it.  Society  is  full 
of  anarchy.  It  is  full  of  wretched  spirits  who  wish  to 
tear  it  in  pieces.  Nay,  the  very  structure  of  society,  the 
very  fact  that  it  is  so  closely  woven  together,  gives  the 
opportunity  that  rude,  lawless,  and  violent  spirits  need  to 
make  their  own  advantages  out  of  their  fellow-men.  On 
this  very  account  the  tyrant  is  able  to  spread  his  dominion 
so  widely.  On  this  very  account  the  despot  is  able  to 
shake  the  earth  as  lie  does.  Because  the  web  is  so  fine,  a 
violent  finger  will  tear  it  to  pieces.  But  then,  much  that 
is  noblest  in  us  owes  its  training  to  this  very  structure  of 
society.  The  patriot  is  its  offspring.  The  philanthropist 
is  its  child.  The  worthy  citizen  is  its  common  creature, 
and  the  men  who  labor  that  the  world  may  be  better — ■ 
the  reformers  who  are  ready  to  lay  down  their  lives  for 
the  good  of  their  fellow-men — are  born  out  of  this  respect 
for  fellow-men.  Just  as  often  as  anarchy  rises  and  tries 
to  tear  the  social  fabric  in  pieces,  the  fine  web  forms,  again, 
and  the  great  work  goes  slowly  on. 

A  few  days  ago  a  man  died  in  London  who  illustrated 
simply  and  beautifully  this  truth.  He  was  not  born  to 
wealth,  or  comfort,  or  luxury,  or  high  estate.  He  made 
his  way  upward  by  his  own  efforts.  He  was  a  lonely  man, 
unmarried,  with  never  wife  or  children,  with  few  near 
kindred  ;  he  worked  by  himself,  and  by  his  patient  work- 
ing amassed  an  enormous  fortune.  Many,  in  his  case, 
thus  alone,  self-sufficient  and  self-dependent,  would  have 
been  satisfied  to  live  alone  and  to  exalt  themselves  at  the 
expense  of  others.  They  would  have  become  hoarders  of 
wealth — what  we  call  misers.    They  would  have  contracted 


106      THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. 

themselves  more  and  more,  forgetting  neighbors,  oblivious 
of  human  obligations,  and  doing  nothing  of  that  duty 
which  is  incumbent  upon  every  man  and  woman  who  lives 
in  the  modern  world.  But  this  man  remembered  that  he 
was  but  one  member  of  the  family  of  mankind.  lie  remem- 
bered that  he  had  a  duty  to  perform  and  a  debt  to  discharge, 
lie  knew  that  his  wealth  came  from  the  labors  of  the  work- 
ing class,  and  he  tried  to  give  back  to  the  woikiog  class  a 
portion  of  the  benefit  that  they  had  conferred  upon  him,  by 
building,  in  the  heart  of  London,  more  comfortable  homes 
for  them  to  live  in.  America,  by  continuing  to  be  America, 
to  reward  his  faith  in  her  had  poured  enormous  wealth 
irito  his  lap  ;  having  the  wealth,  he  remembered  America 
in  her  time  of  need,  and  poured  it  back  into  her  bosom, 
that  America  might  be  richer,  that  her  untaught  millions 
might  be  taught,  and  that  a  better  civilization  might  be 
started  and  established  in  the  southern  land.  Say  what 
you  may  about  the  wisdom  of  his  charities  and  the  suc- 
cess of  his  benilicences,  we  can  not  forget  that  he  accepted 
and  fulfilled  this  mission,  that  the  mere  fact  of  his  being 
a  member  of  society  overcame  his  selfishness,  drew  him 
out  of  his  loneliness,  warmed  his  heart,  enlarged  his  sym- 
pathies, strengthened  the  bonds  that  bound  him  to  his 
fellow-men ;  and  now  his  memory  is  in  all  minds,  his 
name  is  spoken  in  humble  gratitude  by  the  lowliest  and  the 
loftiest  lips.  A  Queen  sheds  tears  as  he  dies.  His  statue 
stands  in  bronze  in  the  great  city  of  London ;  carved  out 
of  grateful  memories  and  pure  affections  his  statue  stands 
in  the  niche  which*  every  good  heart  has  for. those  who 
love  their  fellow-men. 

One  thought  more  is  necessary  to  complete  what  I  have 
to  say.  The  education  of  the  family  is  limited.  So  is 
that  of  the  State.  In  both  there  is  room  for  great  selfish- 
ness, for  tyranny,  despotism,  and  violence.     Another  edu- 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  THE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.     197 

cator  is  needed.  Men  must  learn  to  love  each  other,  not 
as  members  of  the  same  household,  of  the  same  town, 
city,  tribe,  state,  or  nation,  but  as  members  of  the  same 
great  human  family.  This  love  alone  can  be  purety  dis- 
interested. The  family  love  is  selfish  within  its  limits. 
Social  love  is  within  its  limits  selfish.  "We  know  well 
how  in  the  State  the  politician  may  produce  disorganiza- 
tion ;  how  in  society  those  who  hate  one  another  or  who 
mean  to  plunder  one  another  have  abundant  opportunity. 
Selfishness  is  not  eradicated  by  these  institutions,  and  so 
God  plants  another.  It  is  the  Church.  The  church  rep- 
resents fellowship  on  the  simple  ground  of  humanity  ;  the 
Church  is  not  American  or  French,  Roman  or  English, 
it  is  simply  the  Church.  It  is  not  for  the  poor  or  the 
rich,  for  the  wise  or  the  simple,  for  the  great  or  the  small ; 
it  is  for  everybody.  The  Church  knows  no  differences 
between  men,  but  only  one  fundamental  resemblance.  It 
speaks  of  the  one  God  and  Father  of  all ;  of  the  Christ 
who  is  the  brother,  the  friend,  the  sympathizer,  the  ser- 
vant of  all ;  of  the  common  lot,  the  common  origin,  the 
common  destiny,  the  common  birth,  the  common  heaven, 
the  common  need,  the  common  suffering,  the  common 
sorrow,  the  common  consolation  and  redemption.  The 
Church  speaks  simply  of  man — not  of  man  and  woman, 
but  of  man — mankind.  Its  symbol  is  the  communion. 
Think  of  the  first  communion  supper.  Think  of  those 
twelve  men  seated  around  a  table  with  their  Master. 
There  was  John,  the  intense,  passionate,  morbid  enthusi- 
ast and  seer.  There  was  Fetor,  the  organizer,  the  practi- 
cal man,  the  man  of  simple  common-sense,  whose  name 
is  associated  with  the  Church  of  Rome.  There  was  James, 
the  ritualist,  the  formalist,  the  priest  of  the  early  church, 
the  man  who  wore  the  priestly  robes  and  went  through 
the  form  of  granting  absolution  to  the  people,  the  man 


198      THE  INFERNAL  AND  TEE  CELESTIAL  LOVE.  ■ 

who  stood  for  ordinances  and  sacraments.  There  was 
Judas,  the  business  man,  who  carried  the  bag.  Then  there 
was  Matthew,  and  the  rest  of  the  disciples  who  left  no 
mark  whatever  in  history — simple  men,  stupid,  ignorant, 
who  had  no  comprehension  of  their  Master  whatever,  and 
who  were  ready  to  run  away  when  danger  came.  There 
they  all  sat,  and  among  them  the  great  Christ,  sweet,  se- 
rene, and  benign,  breaking  his  bread  for  all  of  them  to 
eat,  giving  the  cup  that  he  tasted  to  all  of  them  to  drink, 
blessing  them  all  alike,  pronouncing  upon  all  his  peace. 
The  symbol  is  never  realized,  never  fulfilled.  Can  we 
ever  dare  to  hope  it  will  be  fulfilled  ?  The  Church  lias 
never  done  its  duty.  It  has  never  tried  fully  to  do  its 
duty.  In  tact,  by  generating  an  aristocracy  of  its  own, 
an  aristocracy  of  believers,  a  family  of  the  elect,  a  select 
class  of  the  devout,  it  has  done  what  it  could  to  break 
up  the  human  family.  And  yet,  here  and  there,  in  little 
spots  about  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  you  will  find 
these  simple,  scattered  groups  of  men  and  women  meet- 
ing together  without  distinction  of  lot  or  of  person,  and 
bound  together  by  a  love  so  simple,  sweet,  tender,  and 
strong  that  all  the  hostility  of  the  world  can  not  drive 
them  asunder.  Imperfect  as  the  work  of  the  Church  has 
been,  it  has  still  held  up  its  sign,  the  sign  of  the  commu- 
nion, the  sign  of  the  cross,  the  sign  of  the  dove.  Still  it 
has  spoken  of  the  great  All-Father ;  still  of  the  Christ, 
the  one  Brother  of  all;  still  of  the  great  Heaven  that 
opens  to  all  the  immortal  destiny. 

Slow  and  long  and  weary  is  the  process  of  educating 
man  out  of  his  selfishness — hard  and  laborious  beyond  our 
telling  or  conceiving.  But  it  is  done — feebly,  imperfectly, 
gradually,  by  slow  and  tedious  stages.  The  time  will 
come  when  each  one  of  these  divine  institutions  will  ful- 
fill its  end  more  gloriously  than  it  has  yet,  and,  as  it  does, 


THE  INFERNAL  AND  TEE  CELESTIAL  LOVE. '  199 

each  will  prepare  its  way  for  tlie  next,  until  at  last  we 
shall  have  on  the  earth  a  society — a  society  of  men  and 
women  who  are  brothers  and  sisters,  mutually  dependent 
and  mutually  faithful,  mutually  loving,  serving,  and  bless? 
mg  ;  then  the  prayer  of  Jesus  will  be  answered  :  "  May 
thy  kingdom  come,  may  thy  will  be  done  on  Earth  as  it 
is  in  Heaven." 


XII. 
THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

This  mortal  must  put  on  immortality. — 1  Cor.  xv.  53.' 

OF  nil  the  great  religions-  ideas,  none  has  been  so  un- 
worthily treated  as  the  idea  of  immortality.  Of  all 
its  grand  legends,  none  has  been  so  meanly  interpreted 
by  Christendom  as  the  resurrection.  It  is  popularly  re- 
garded as  a  matter  of  bones  and  blood.  It  is  read  as  the 
story  of  a  mortal  who  renewed  his  mortality,  rather  than 
of  a  mortal  who  put  immortality  on.  The  point  of  sig- 
nificance in  it,  indeed  the  solid  proof  of  it,  is  made  to 
consist  in  the  ability  of  the  risen  man  to  eat  "  a  piece  of 
broiled  fish  and  an  honeycomb." 

Fairly  considered,  the  New  Testament  does  not  record 
the  physical  resurrection  of  Jesus  as  a  body,  but  his  spirit- 
ual resurrection  as  a  power  of  life  in  the  soul.  Thus  Paul 
— the  first  witness  and  the  great  preacher  of  the  resurrec- 
tion— taught  it.  But  even  supposing  the  corporeal  resur- 
rection of  Jesus  to  be  recorded  and  to  be  true,  that  was 
not  of  the  first  importance.  More  than  one  resurrection 
of  nobler  import  has  Jesus  had  in  history.  There  was  a 
resurrection  in  thought,  when,  rising  in  the  mind  of -Chris- 
tendom, he  stood  a  being  of  light,  glorifying  the  barren 
spaces  of  speculation  as  the  central  figure  in  a  new  the- 
ology. Another  resurrection  he  experienced  in  Art,  when, 
as  a  new  ideal  of  spiritual  beauty,  he  enchanted  the  souls 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  201 

of  Raffaelle  and  Titian  and  Da  Yinci,  and  through  them 
fascinated  the  modern  world.  Again  he  rose  as  the  image 
of  moral  perfection,  showing  the  heavenliness  of  purity, 
patience,  peace,  humility,  aspiration,  to  the  children  of  a 
coarse  and  cruel  age.  And  yet  once  more,  as  a  vision  of 
tenderness,  pity,  compassion,  and  utter  kindness,  as  the 
spiritual  brother  of  mankind,  he  came  out  from  the  grave 
of  a  landless  past,  and  showed  men  how  they  should  live 
with  one  another.  A  great  soul  has  many  immortalities  ; 
they  increase  in  grandeur  as  its  history  unfolds  and  the 
spheres  of  power  open  before  it.  The  corruptible  puts  on 
more  than  one  form  of  incorruption,  and  the  mortal  robes 
itself  in  resurrection  garments  of  many  hues. 

When  often  asked  if  I  believe  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  I  am  tempted  to  reply :  "  It  is  precisely  in  that  I  do 
believe.  It  is  the  sum  of  all  my  convictions.  Believing 
that,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  what  else  I  cling  to.  I 
believe  not  so  much  in  the  soul's  immortality  as  in  the 
soul's  immortalities."  The  difficulty  of  talking  on  this 
subject  arises  from  its  depth  and  extent.  "We  hardly  know 
where  to  begin  ;  we  never  know  where  to  end.  There  is 
so  much  to  say,  that  it  sometimes  seems  best  to  say 
nothing,  lest  one  should  be  misapprehended.  But  I  will 
try  to  say  something  intelligible  on  this  great  theme, 
about  which  so  much  that  is  unintelligible  has  been  said, 
and  which  yet  is  unexhausted.  Let  us  consider  three  or  four 
of  the  ways  in  which  our  mortal  puts  on  immortality. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  the  body 
is  immortal.  Not  the  ancient,  orthodox,  and  generally 
approved  sense;  that  is  abandoned  by  thinking  men.  The 
doctrine  of  the  Church  has  always  been  that,  at  the  last 
day,  the  identical  bodies  of  men  and  women  shall  be 
raised  for  judgment.  Augustine  said  :  "  Every  man's 
body,  howsoever  dispersed,  shall  be  restored  perfect  in  the 


202  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

resurrection,  complete  in  quantity  and  quality.  The  hairs 
that  have  been  cut  off,  the  nails  that  have  been  clipped, 
shall  return;  not  in  such  quantities  as  to  produce  deform- 
ity, but  in  substance  as  they  grew."  Dr.  Gardiner  Spring, 
but  lately  deceased,  wrote  :  "  Whether  buried  in  the  earth, 
or  floating  in  the  sea,  or  consumed  by  the  flames,  or  en- 
riching the  battle-field,  or  evaporate  in  the  atmosphere, 
all,  from  Adam  to  the  latest  born,  shall  wend  their  way  to 
the  great  arena  of  the  judgment.  Every  perished  bone 
and  every  secret  particle  of  dust  shall  obey  the  summons 
and  come  forth."  One  Church  Father  held  that  the  teeth 
were  providentially  made  eternal,  to  serve  as  the  seeds  of 
the  resurrection.  Others  opined  that  the  resurrection 
body  would  be  in  the  shape  of  a  ball,  like  the  head  of  a 
cherub.  According  to  an  old  rabbinical  tradition,  a  small, 
almond-shaped  bone,  called  the  ossiculum  luz,  formed  the 
nucleus  round  which  the  organic  elements  would  gather, 
or  the  germ  from  which  they  would  be  developed  in  the 
resurrection.  This  bone,  they  fancied,  was  indestructible; 
no  pounding  on  anvils  with  steel  hammers,  no  burning  in 
fiery  furnaces,  no  soaking  in  powerful  solvents,  threatened 
it  with  demolition  or  touched  it  with  decay.  It  was  incor- 
ruptible and  immortal.  Modern  speculation  has  enter- 
tained a  similar  fancy. 

The  author  of  a  curious  book,  called  "  The  Physical 
Theory  of  Another  Life,"  imagines  that  the  body  may 
contain  some  imperishable  particle  in  which  the  soul  has 
its  seat — a  particle  imponderable  and  imperceptible,  which, 
when  the  gross  elements  of  the  body  decompose,  assumes 
a  higher  life  and  evolves  a  nobler  organization.  Leigh 
Hunt,  in  his  charming  book,  "  The  Religion  of  the  Heart," 
indulges  some  such  dream.  "Physiologists  tell  us," 
he  says,  "that  the  vital  knot  of  the  nerves  is  no  bigger 
than  a  pin's  head.     TV  ho  shall  say  of  what  size  is  the  knot 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  203 

of  the  knot, — the  life  and  soul  of  the  life  itself,  that 
which  receives  all  our  sensations,  and  acts  upon  them  and 
thinks?" 

Modern  chemistry,  which  is  supreme  in  the  realm  of 
mutter,  which  resolves  the  subtle  air  into  its  constituent 
elements  and  takes  the  light  to  pieces,  brushes  such  no- 
tions away  as  idle  fancies.  Nothing  ethereal  eludes  its 
grasp.  The  "  spiritual  body  "  it  cannot  see  must  be  at- 
tenuated indeed!  Chemistry  says:  Not  thus  is  the  body 
immortal,  but  rather  in  a  fashion  conceived  by  most  men 
to  be  fatal  to  the  very  idea  of  its  immortality.  It  is  de- 
composed ;  it  passes  into  the  elements  ;  it  dissolves  and  es- 
capes in  air;  it  mingles  with  the  productive  agencies  of  the 
ground,  and  reappears  in  leaves  and  plants.  It  is  glorified 
in  the  grass  that  is  green  on  the  grave,  and  the  wild  flow- 
ers that  make  living  the  meadow.  The  soft  garments  of 
the  spring  are  the  resurrection  robes  of  thousands  of 
mortal  forms.  Science  preaches  eloquently  tile  persistency, 
the  indestructibility  of  force.  Our  bodies  are  magazines 
of  power ;  and  when  the  "  silver  cord  is  loosed "  that 
binds  the  frame  together,  the  emancipated  force  takes 
other  shape,  flows  in  new  directions,  and  performs  fresh 
work.  The  death  of  the  body  is  its  transformation  ;  the 
dissolution  of  the  body  is  its  discharge  to  new  offices.  It 
escapes  from  vault  and  coffin ;  it  baffles  the  worm,  and, 
without  displacing  stone  or  sod,  becomes  ethereal,  and 
floats  away. 

The  belief,  if  it  be  nothing  more,  is  tranquillizing  and 
pleasant.  It  may  make  no  one  more  thoughtful  or  regard- 
ful of  the  body  that  is  reserved  for  such  fine  transfigura- 
tions ;  it  may  teach  none  to  respect  the  frame  so  sweetly 
predestined  :  but  it  should  have  power  to  disarm  the  grave 
of  its  merely  loathsome  terrors  ;  it  should,  to  some  degree, 
purify  the  charnel-house,  expelling  the  phantoms  of  mould 


204  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

and  rot,  and  placing  white  angels  in  the  spot  where  the 
dead  body  had  lain.  This  idea  of  fleshly  immortality  should 
relieve  us  of  our  disgusts,  and  make  us  think  more  amia- 
bly, if  it  cannot  make  us  think  more  lovingly,  of  Death — - 
the  angel  that  can  spiritualize  our  much-abused  and.  often 
grievously  insulted  dust.  The  first  step  towards  gaining 
a  complete  victory  over  death  will  be  to  think  more  sweetly 
of  its  processes.  If  with  our  clod  it  deals  so  tenderly,  the 
dealing  will  surely  be  no  less  tender  with  what  we  respect 
more.  Superstition  demands  the  resurrection  of  the  cor- 
poreal man,  that  he  may  appear  in  very  person  to  be 
judged  and  punished.  Reason  prefers  to  think  of  the 
corporeal  man's  dissolution  as  the  release  of  the  body  from 
its  duty.  It  is  consoled  and  elevated  by  the  thought  that 
Nature  loves  the  particles  of  even  the  vilest  body,  and 
when  its  temporary  possessor  has  done  brutalizing  it,  will 
kindly  change  it  into  forms  of  loveliness  all  her  own. 

II.  A  nobler  immortality  is  that  we  have  in  the  memory 
of  those  that  love  us.  It  is  more  than  figuratively  true 
that  we  live  in  one  another.  With  very  many  the  in- 
ward beino;  consists  more  in  others'  lives  than  in  their  own. 
If  there  be  a  human  creature  who  is  wholly  unloved ;  who 
has  no  affections,  or  possesses  no  power  of  gaining  affec- 
tions ;  who  touches  his  neighbors  as  one  particle  of  sand 
touches  another,  at  the  hard  surface,  never  blending  or 
mingling:  if  there  be  a  human  creature  whom  no  wife 
clings  to,  no  brother  or  sister  cherishes,  no  child  reveres  or 
blesses,  no  friend  confides  in,  no  neighbor  looks  up  to  with 
admiration  or  reposes  on'with  trust — such  a  creature  knows 
nothing  of  the  immortality  I  speak  of.  But  few,  if  any, 
arc  as  unfortunate  as  this,  and  none  need  be.  Organic 
ties  bind  most  of  us  to  more  persons  than  one;  and  if 
organic  ties  do  not,  ties  of  mutual  service,  of  sympathy 
and   tenderness,  do.     It  is  seldom,  indeed,  that  one  dies 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  %  )5 

leaving  none  bereaved.  Seldom,  indeed,  does  one  die  and 
not  leave  himself  behind,  a  power  of  sadness  or  gladness 
in  other  hearts  for  years — a  presence  visible  to  the  mind's 
eye,  tangible  to  the  heart's  feeling,  absent  never  by  day, 
and  often  disturbing  sleep  by  dreams — a  presence  that 
cannot  be  banished  ;  for  it  is  part  and  portion  of  the 
mind  itself,  that  "\ve  would  not  banish  if  we  could  for 
worlds. 

If  the  child  of  few  years,  the  infant  of  few  months,  have 
no  other  immortality,  it  has  a  very  dear  and  blessed  one 
in  the  heavenly  heart  of  its  mother — an  immortality  of 
light  ineffable,  to  which  comes  no  shadow,  in  which  is  no 
doubt  or  fear  or  imperfection — an  immortality  that  deepens 
in  grace  and  glory  as  long  as  her  consciousness  endures. 
The  baby  taken  from  her  arms  is  transfigured  in  her  bosom. 
Seeing  it  no  more,  no  more  holding  it  in  her  lap,  she  talks 
with  it  and  smiles  with  it,  sits  with  it  in  the  nursery,  ram- 
bles with  it  over  the  fields,  prattles  foolish  fancies  to  it, 
drops  asleep  with  it  nestling  in  her  breast,  and  wakes  to  see 
its  little  face  looking  down  upon  her.  It  was  j#esA  of  her 
flesh,  and  bone  of  her  bone ;  it  is  thought  of  her  thought, 
feeling  of  her  feeling,  and  life  of  her  life.  Before  it  left 
her  womb,  it  stirred  unutterable  longings,  opened  new 
fountains  of  hope,  whispered  bright  promises  of  happi- 
ness ;  no  sooner  did  it  appear,  than  a  new  world  within 
her  was  ready  to  welcome  it — a  world  that  the  expectation 
of  the  new-comer  had  prepared.  From  week  to  week, 
tb rough  the  period  of  its  dependence  on  her,  the  stranger 
had  been  enlarging,  uplifting,  softening  and  enriching  her 
nature,  making  her  a  sweeter  and  better  woman  ;  and  each 
new  thought  or  feeling  is  associated,  is  identified,  with  the 
image  of  the  young  Messiah,  who  preached  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  and  brought  it.  When  he  goes  away,  is  all  that 
lost?     No,  indeed,  it  remains;  the  child  remains — always 


206  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

to  her  thought  a  child,  though  lier  thought  becomes 
feeble  and  lier  memory  of  many  another  pleasant  thing 
•fails. 

An  old  man,  a  physician,  who  called  himself  an  Atheist, 
lost  his  son — his  only  boy — a  youth  of  fine  character  and 
promise.  To  the  question  whether  he  believed  him  to  be 
still  living,  he  replied  :  "  Yes,  in  me  ;  in  my  heart  he  lives ; 
and  as  long  as  I  have  thought  and  feeling,  he  will  have 
thought  and  feeling  in  me.  "When  I  cease  to  be  conscious, 
he  will  die."  To  few  people,  perhaps,  will  the  thought  of 
such  an  immortality  be  satisfying,  but  to  none  should  it  be 
unimpressive.  It  suggests  a  life  after  death  that,  though 
impersonal,  is  genuine  and  real,  the  hope  whereof  should 
be  stimulating.  To  live  in  another,  in  several  others  pos- 
sibly— to  live  as  a  precious  memory,  a  pleasant  thought,  a 
kindling  anticipation,  a  sweet  solace,  an  example  of  good- 
ness, a  help  to  virtue, — is  surely  to  live  a  very  real  exist- 
ence, far  more  real  than  most  people  dream  of  when  they 
dream  of  heaven.  To  live  so  is  worth  praying  for  and  work- 
ing for.  This  kind  of  life  may  be  more  effectual  than  the 
life  in  the  body  was.  The  dead  mother  often  sways  her 
child  more  than  the  living  mother  did  ;  the  imagination, 
quickened  by  sorrow,  working  mightily  to  fix  impressions 
which  the  actual  word  or  look  could  not  secure.  To  be 
allowed  to  live  thus  in  her  child's  future,  the  mother  would 
gladly  relinquish  her  hope  of  an  everlasting  future  for  her- 
self. This  immortality,  at  all  events,  may  be  assured  : 
those  who  love  us  will  remember  us — alas  !  when  we  wish 
they  might  forget.  That  which  has,  for  better  or  worse, 
become  an  organic  portion  of  being  cannot  be  obliterated. 
Whether  its  quality  there  be  the  quality  of  the  angel  or 
the  fiend — whether  our  immortality  in  the  hearts  of  those 
who  love  us  be  an  immortality  of  bane  or  bliss — it  is  inev- 
itable.    Though  the  bane  or  the  bliss  be  ours  in  anticipa- 


TEE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  207 

tion  only,  though  we  neither  suffer  the  one  nor  delight  in 
the  other,  the  anticipation  of  it  alone  should  make  us  lead 
nobler  lives.  If  the  prospect  of  misery  or  happiness  fcr 
ourselves  hereafter  is  enough  to  sober  or  inspire  us,  how 
much  more  should  we  be  sobered  and  inspired  by  the 
thought  that  when  we  are  gone,  we  may  be  the  cause  of 
life-long  misery  or  happiness  to  those  that  love  us  better 
than  we  ever  loved  ourselves  ! 

III.  A  grander  kind  of  immortality  yet — grander, 
though  less  affecting — is  that  we  have  in  humanity.  We 
live  in  humanity;  we  are  vitally  connected  with  it  as 
members.  The  human  race  is  an  organic  being,  that  lives 
and  grows  from  age  to  age,  animated  by  one  spirit,  actu- 
ated by  one  power.  uNo  one  liveth  to  himself,  and  no 
man  dieth  to  himself."  Standing  midway  between  those 
that  have  gone  before  and  those  that  are  to  follow  after 
him,  he  receives  and  transmits  the  qualities  that  build  up 
the  social  world.  Existence  is  a  process  -of  receiving  and 
giving.  In  us  live  the  fathers  ;  in  the  children  we  shall 
'live  forever — every  atom  of  our  nature  being  taken  up, 
absorbed,  worked  over,  as  material  for  the  coming  man. 
As  Lessing  puts  it:  "The  immortality  of  souls  is  indis- 
solubly  associated  with  the  development  of  the  race.  We 
who  live  are  not  only  the  offspring  of  those  who  have 
lived  before  us,  we  are  really  of  their  substance ;  and  it  is 
thus  that  we  are  immortals,  living  forever." 

This  idea  has,  for  thousands  of  years,  been  rooted  in  the 
world.  Traces  of  it  are  found  in  the  ancient  religions.  It 
was  hinted  at  in  the  Egyptian  doctrine  of  transmigration  ; 
it  was  conveyed  in  the  Indian  doctrine  of  absorption;  the 
Chinese  acknowledged  it  in  their  worship  of  ancestors. 
The  ancient  Hebrews,  previous  to  the  captivity,  seem  to 
have  known  no  other  doctrine  of  immortality  than  this. 
The  dying  Hebrew  was  said  to  be  "  gathered  to  his  fathers ; " 


208  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

and,  as  he  passed  away,  the  thought  last  in  his  mind  was 
of  the  posterity  in  whom  he  should  continue  to  live.  The 
Hebrew's  prayer  was  for  long  life  and  for  children  and 
grandchildren — generations  who  should  transmit  his  vir- 
tues, and  call  him  blessed.  His  kingdom  of  heaven  was 
on  earth ;  his  dream  of  eternity  was  the  glorious  future  of 
his  race. 

Gleams  of  the  same  belief  shine  through  Pythagoras 
and  Plato  and  other  sages  of  the  old  world.  This  is  the 
belief  of  the  Positivists  of  our  own  time.  They  cherish 
no  hope  of  private  immortality ;  that  they  describe  as  the 
fond  anticipation  of  egotistical  minds.  They  have  much 
to  say  about  living  again  in  those  that  shall  succeed  them 
— about  making  a  contribution  to  the  happiness  of  their 
posterity — adding  something  to  the  capacity,  skill  or  virtue 
of  the  coming  time — leaving  behind  works  that  may  fol- 
low them  ;  as  they  have  entered  into  the  labors  of  others, 
they  would  make  it  worth  while  for  others  to  enter  into 
theirs,  consoled  by  the  knowledge  that  no  fragment  of  liv- 
ing bread  will  be  wasted,  that  no  accent  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
will  be  lost. 

The  great  master  of  this  school  declares  that  for  every 
true  man  there  are  two  forms  of  existence  ;  the  one  tem- 
poral and  conscious,  the  other  unconscious  but  eternal ; 
the  one  involving  the  presence  of  a  body  which  perishes, 
the  other  involving  the  action  only  of  intellect  and  heart 
which  cannot  die — the  latter  alone  worthy  to  be  called 
that  noble  immortality  of  the  soul  after  which  the  best 
aspire.  To  his  female  companion — who  complains  that 
such  an  immortality  appals  her,  by  giving  to  her  a  sense 
of  insignificance  that  reduces  her  to  nothing,  and  who  begs 
to  have  revived  in  her  a  feeling  of  her  own  individual  ex- 
istence— the  master  replies,  that  the  Great  Being, 
Humanity,  cannot  act  except  through  individual   agents; 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  209 

the  collective  life  is  but  the  result  of  the  free  concurrence 
of  the  efforts  of  simple  individuals  ;  all  are  nothing  with- 
out each  one,  and  each  one,  while  embodied  and  con- 
scious, may  feel  himself  to  be  an  indispensable  part  of  the 
living  whole ;  each  is  predestinated,  and  each  is  useful ; 
each  has  a  message,  because  each  is  sent.  In  the  same 
strain  another  writer  of  great  power :  "  Whatever 
happiness  we  derive  from  pure  regard  to  our  fellow-beings, 
and  from  satisfaction  in  the  general  welfare,  will  cling  to 
us  as  long  as  we  are  capable  of  entertaining  it ;  and  what- 
ever deeds  we  do,  not  '  in  the  flesh,'  for  the  gratification 
of  self,  but  '  in  the  spirit,'  for  the  love  of  God  and  man- 
kind, we  may  know  to  be  as  immortal  in  their  nature  as 
God  and  mankind  are  immortal." 

There  is  the  conception— it  must  be  confessed,  a  very 
impressive  one  to  the  calm,  brave  mind.  For  thirty  years 
this  gospel  of  immortality  has  been  eloquently  preached, 
not  without  effect.  It  has  taken  strong  hold,  not  on  the 
intellectual  and  passionless  only,  but  on  the  working- 
people  of  intelligence  in  Europe,  who  have  thrown  off 
Christianity  and  discarded  faith  in  a  personal  God.  It  is 
a  belief  that  deserves  consideration  and  respect  from  all 
who  consider  the  claims  of  truth,  and  from  all  who  respect 
the  serious  convictions  of  earnest  men.  If  it  is  not  to  be 
lightly  accepted,  it  is  not  to  be  lightly  ridiculed,  for  it 
contains  the  elements  of  great  power. 

The  heartiest  objection  to  it  is,  perhaps,  its  heartiest 
recommendation.  It  effectually  destroys  egotism,  that 
taint  in  the  common  belief;  it  gives  no  encouragement  to 
the  selfish  wish  for  a  happiness  purely  personal  ;  grants  no 
indulgence  to  the  longing  for  a  heaven  of  idle  rest  or  un- 
earned recreation  ;  rebukes  the  rash  claim  for  private  and 
unmerited  rewards  ;  says  to  men,  avaricious  of  crowns 
and  throne's  in   the  hereafter,  what  Jesus  said  to  the  am 


210  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

bitiouS'  youths  who  asked  for  seats  at  the  right  hand  and 
left  hand  of  his  throne  :  "  What  you  ask  is  not  mine  to 
give."  If  pure  disinterestedness  he  noble,  then  this 
doctrine  has  a  character  of  supreme  nobility;  for  it  re- 
quires the  renunciation  of  every  interested  or  covetous 
passion  ;  it  bids  men  labor  for  what  they  shall  never  share, 
and  fight'  for  what  they  shall  never  enjoy.  To  any  but 
the  earnest,  loving  and  self-sacrificing  it  is  cold  and  dreary  ; 
bnt  to  these  it  is  inspiring  and  grand. 

The  doctrine  is  human,  purely  human — human  in  its 
very  texture.  It  rests  on  the  fact  of  human  fellowship ; 
it  derives  its  vitality  from- the  power  of  the  sympathetic 
feelings :  love — deep,  unselfish,  consecrating  love,  for 
human  beings  as  such,  for  human  beings,  unrelated, 
unknown,  unborn — is  its  animating  principle ;  the  love  of 
duty  is  its  strength ;  the  faithful  ministry  of  mutual  ser- 
vice is  its  living  pledge  and  bond.  It  is  nothing  without 
others,  many  others,  all  others ;  its  grandeur  consists  in  the 
solemn  perpetuity  of  that  eternal  Being  called  Man, 
whose  existence  rolls  on  through  the  ages,  gathering  might 
as  it  rolls,  swelled  by  the  great  and  little  tributaries— 
the  rivers  and  rivulets,  the  brooks  and  tiny  brooklets, 
that  add  their  rushing  volumes  or  their  trickling  drops  as 
it  pours  along. 

The  doctrine  is  spiritual.  Rightly  apprehended,  it  is 
the  only  purely  spiritual  doctrine  that  is  entertained  ;  for  it 
puts  out  of  sight  altogether,  and  utterly  abolishes,  the  con- 
sideration of  "  mine"  and  "thine."  The  spiritual  faculty 
is  the  faculty  of  living  in  ideas,  truths,  laws  ;  the  spiritual 
glory  is  the  glory  that  comes  of  so  living;  the  spiritual 
being  is  the  being  who  lives  "not  for  himself  alone,"  not 
for  his  private  enjoyment  or  satisfaction  or  development, 
but,  for  that  which  is  a  great  deal  more  than  himself,  for 
that  which  is  not  phenomenal  and  passing,  hut  stable  and 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  211 

permanent,  which  will  live  when  lie  is  no  more,  the  glory 
whereof  lie  can  increase  and  in  a  measure  create,  though 
in  it  he  is  absorbed.  Lucifer  forfeited  his  spirituality  by 
setting  up  for  himself.  His  brethren  preserved  theirs  by 
their  meek  surrender  to  the  perfect  Will.  As  the  spirit- 
uality of  God  consists,  not  in  his  being  bodiless,  but  in 
his  being  self-renouncing — as  a  God  who  made  the  end  of 
the  universe  to  be  his  own  glory  would  be  precisely  the 
reverse  of  spiritual — so  is  he  the  seeker  of  a  spiritual  im- 
mortality who  desires  to  live  in  others'  future  more  than 
in  his  own. 

The  doctrine  has  its  fine  inspiration  too.  The  first 
aspect  of  it  sends  a  chill  to  the  heart.  The  ordinary  man 
or  woman  feels  annihilated  by  it.  What  is  the  ocean's 
debt  to  the  drop  of  water?  What  is  the  sun's  debt  to  a 
candle  ?  What  effect  has  a  summer  shower  to  sweeten  the 
bitterness  of  an  Atlantic  or  Pacific  sea  ?  How  shall  the 
planet  feel  the  leverage  of  my  little  finger  ?  What  contri- 
bution is  my  faint  breathing  to  the  mighty  blasts  of  truth 
and  conscience  that  must  blow  the  vessel  of  humanity,  on- 
ward ?  This  doctrine  of  immortality  in  the  race  may  an- 
swer for  a  Buddha  or  a  Moses,  a  Jesus  or  a  Paul ;  it  may 
satisfy  a  Pythagoras,  a  Socrates,  a  Plato  ;  the  Augustines 
and  Luthers,  the  Xaviers,  St.  Bernards  and  Fenelons  may 
rejoice  in  it ;  Dante  and  Milton,  Shakespeare  and  Lessing, 
may  press  it  to  their  bosoms  ;  Mozart  and  Beethoven, 
Handel  and  Mendelssohn,  may  wish  nothing  better ;  Leib- 
nitz and  Bacon, ISTewton  and  Galileo,  may  dwell  on  it  with 
rapture  ;  it  may  till  the  dream  of  Paffaelle,  Angelo,  Da 
Yinci;  for  their  great  lives  poured  into  the  ocean  of  hu- 
manity as  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  pour  into  the  Gulf, 
as  the  waters  of  the  Orinoco  pour  into  the  Atlantic, 
heaving  up  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  thrusting  its  pur- 
ple current  miles  from  the  shore.     They  who  are  con- 


212  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN, 

scions  of  vast  power  can  rejoice  in  great  influence :  but 
those  who  are  conscious  only  of  great  weakness  can  promise 
themselves  no  such  recognition,  and  must  droop  for  lack 
of  inducement. 

If  recognition  were  demanded,  if  an  immortality  of  fame 
were  the  immortality  coveted,  this  objection  would  be  fatal, 
for  the  famous  are  the  few.  The  mass  are  soon  forgotten, 
living  but  a  little  while  in  the  memory  of  their  friends.  But 
fame  does  not  always  follow  influence.  Many  a  great 
benefactor  is  scarcely  remembered  even  by  name.  Many 
are  quite  unknown.  The  mass  of  mankind  make  humani- 
ty, not  the  few ;  the  multitude  of  the  lowly  and  worthy 
decide  what  the  future  of  society  shall  be.  He  who  con- 
tributes a  life  of  simple  truth,  sets  an  example  of  daily 
honesty,  makes  a  happy  home,  trains  his  children  well,  is 
a  loyal  friend  and  a  good  citizen,  practices  the  greatest  du- 
ties in  the  smallest  way — does  more  to  augment  the  sum. 
of  moral  power  in  the  world  than  any  artist,  however  ad- 
mirable, any  poet,  however  sublime,  or  any  genius,  how- 
ever inventive.  The  doctrine  of  immortality  in  the  race 
is  peculiarly  encouraging  to  the  humble,  earnest  toilers, 
the  unprivileged  and  ungifted  ;  for  their  contributions  are 
just  what  they  choose  to  make  them,  and  what  they  add  is 
that  which  is  most  indispensable  to  the  common  good. 
We  are  not  surprised,  therefore,  to  learn  that  this  doctrine 
is  especially  popular  among  the  artisans,  who  know  that 
all  they  can  contribute  is  industry,  patience,  fidelity,  intel- 
ligent skill,  temperance,  prudence,  economy,  but  who 
know,  as  none  others  do,  that  these  qualities  are  precisely 
what  humanity  needs  in  its  struggle  fur  life. 

IY.  I  have  spoken  at  some  length  on  this  view  of  the  im- 
mortal life,  because  it  is  unfamiliar,  and  because  it  is  mis- 
understood. I  have  spoken  earnestly  because  I  could  not 
speak  at  length ;  the  words  had  to  be  vivid  because  they 


TEE  IMMORT^LLITIES  OF  MAN.  213 

had  to  be  few.  But  I  leave  it,  now,  to  say  something  on 
that  other  form  of  immortality — the  personal,  individual 
immortality— which  is  the  hope  of  so  many  millions  of 
mankind,  which  is,  in  fact,  the  only  form  of  immortality 
by  most  people  tho  ight  worth  considering.  The  belief  in 
conscious  immortality  has  a  strong  hold  on  the  human 
race.  It  is  ancient,  though  there  were  times  when  it  did 
not  exist.  It  is  widely  spread,  though  there  have  been 
people  who  did  not  entertain  it.  All  men  do  not  believe 
it,  and  cannot.  All  do  not  desire  it,  life  not  being  so  rich 
to  all  that  they  would  continue  it  if  they  could.  All  do  not 
hope  for  it ;  for  there  are  those  who  think  the  hope  auda- 
cious and  extravagant.  All  dare  not  claim  it,  there  being 
not  a  few  modest  souls  who  cannot  think  themselves  or 
their  neighbors  worthy  of  so  inestimable  a  privilege  as  that 
of  renewed  existence.  This  life,  they  say,  is  more  than  we 
can  manage ;  it  would  be  worse  than  rash  to  demand  ano- 
ther and  a  longer  one.  Such  will  actually  resist  the  argu- 
ments that  are  urged  in  favor  of  their  falling  heirs  to  such 
an  overwhelming  estate. 

But  such  considerations  do  not  affect  greatly  the  moral 
consciousness  of  mankind.  Most  men — all  men,  at  some 
periods — live  in  their  feelings  ;  and  their  feelings  all  twine 
round  this  column  of  personal  immortality,  as  the  vine 
clings  to  its  upright  trellis.  The  instinctive  love  of  life 
abhors  death,  protests  against  dissolution,  insists  on  contin- 
uance. Living  man  cannot  think  annihilation ;  he  can 
only  think  life.  Thinking  man  cannot  conceive  of  thought 
as  ceasing,  and  in  the  activity  of  his  mind  finds  prophecy 
of  endless  intellectual  progress.  Loving  man  cannot  bring 
himself  to  believe  that  the  objects  of  his  affection  are  gone 
from  him  forever,  or  that  he  shall  ever  lack  objects  to  love. 
The  deathlessness  of  the  beloved  seems  to  be  an  axiom  to 
the  heart.     Earnest,  aspiring  man,  feels  certain  that  he  shall 


214  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAX. 

be  allowed  time  to  fulfill  his  dream  and  attain  his  perfec- 
tion. Then,  too,  we  are  persons  :  each  one  of  us  says  I j 
and,  when  he  says  it,  feels  himself  to  be  an  indestructible 
monad,  a  separate  entity,  a  solid  thing,  that  he  remembers 
as  having  persisted  through  a  changeable  past,  that  he  is 
sure  persists  now,  and  that  he  cannot  persuade  himself 
will  cease  to  persist  through  any  changes  that  may  befall. 
All  this  is  instinctive.  Reasoning  has  little  or  nothing  to 
do  with  the  assurance.  In  fact,  the  more  we  reason  about 
it,  the  weaker  it  is.  "  The  only  occasions,"  says  a  sincere 
writer,  "  on  which  a  shade  of  doubt  has  passed  over  my 
conviction  of  a  future  existence,  has  been  when  I  have 
rashly  endeavored  to  make  out  a  case,  to  give  a  reason  for 
the  faith  that  is  in  me,  to  assign  ostensible  and  logical 
grounds  for  my  belief.  At  such  times  a  chill  dismay  has 
often  struck  into  my  heart,  and  a  fluctuating  darkness  has 
lowered  down  upon  my  creed,  to  be  dissipated  only  when 
I  had  left  inferenee  and  induction  far  behind,  and  once 
more  suffered  the  soul  to  take  counsel  with  itself." 

The  strength  of  the  faith  lies  in  these  elemental  feelings, 
in  what  Theodore  Parker  calls  the  "  consciousness  of 
immortality."  The  so-called  "proofs"  derive  all  their 
force  from  these  persuasions.  The  "  evidences  "  are  pre- 
texts, apologies,  excuses ;  the  "arguments"  are  illustra- 
tions ;  they  convince  none  but  the  already  convinced. 
Christians  appeal  to  the  resurrection  of  Christ.  But  Paul, 
the  original  preacher  of  the  resurrection,  writes  :  "  If  there 
be  no  resurrection  of  the  dead,  then  is  Christ  not  risen." 
None  but  believers  in  immortality  will  believe  that  Christ 
rose.  The  belief  evidences  the  evidence  ;  the  fact  follows 
the  faith  it  could  not  create. 

Now,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  in  these  modern  times 
the  belief  has  been  wearing  away.  Men  are  not  ruled  by 
feeling,  as  they  were.     Ours  is  an  age  of  research  and  re- 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  215 

flection  with  the  few;  of  absorbing  practical  activity  with 
the  many.  Science,  a  new  prophet,  lifts  up  a  loud  and 
importunate  voice.  Chemistry  has  raised  a  host  of  doubts 
in  regard  to  the  existence  of  an  intelligence  or  soul  separate 
from  organization  ;  and  there  are  philosophers  who  boldly 
assert  that  mind  is  the  product  of  organization.  Historical 
study  has  shown  the  groundlessness  of  the  ecclesiastical 
traditions  of  the  resurrection.  Criticism  takes  away  the 
risen  form  of  Jesus.  Temporal  activities  and  worldly  in- 
terests undermine  the  foundations  and'  impair  the  substance 
of  ideal  hopes.  The  devotion  to  earthly  affairs  disinclines — 
yes,  disables — the  mind,  so  that  it  cannot  feel  at  home 
amid  unsubstantial  things.  The  release  from  the  rule  of 
priest  and  church  brings  emancipation  from  the  old  author- 
ities which  upheld  the  dogma,  and  the  liberated,  rebellious 
people  find  that  they  have  thrown  away  the  supports  they 
had  rested  on,  and  have  no  independent  supports  of  their 
own.  They  have  never  believed  the  doctrine  for  them- 
selves, but  have  taken  it  on  trust  from  their  religious 
teachers.  They  have  ceased  to  take  things  on  trust  from 
their  teachers ;  consecpiently  they  have  no  assurance,  and 
their  faith  leaves  them.  They  never  did  truly  believe  the 
truth  on  its  merits ;  now  they  cannot  even  say  they  be- 
lieve. They  never  had  a  personal  conviction ;  now  they, 
cannot  pretend  to  have  one. 

There  is  a  profound  skepticism  on  this  subject  in  our 
modern  society.  Of  scientific  men,  some  openly  avow 
unbelief  in  the  future  life  ;  some  decline  to  say  anything 
about  it,  as  not  coming  within  their  province ;  and  some 
accept  without  question  the  dogma  of  the  Church  which 
claims  a  revelation  from  God,  and  the  miraculous  energy 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  quicken  its  own  dead.  Worldly 
men,  whether  of  business  or  pleasure,  are  thinking  of  other 
things,  and  give  the  matter  little  attention.     Their  faculty 


21 G  THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

of  apprehension  acts  feebly  on  these  sublimated  themes, 
and  the  great  anticipation  fades  away  from  their  minds. 
A  few  hardy  philosophers  deny  immortality  to  the  common 
herd,  who  can  neither  deserve  it  nor  use  it,  and  claim  it 
for  the  morally  great  and  good,  who,  having  appreciated 
this  life,  may  advance  a  respectable  title  to  another. 

Thus  the  popular  faith  goes  on  crumbling  in  pieces. 
Old  arguments  are  overthrown,  or  fall  by  their  own 
weight.  The  many  believe  by  force  of  having  believed  ; 
the  few,  who  are  noble  and  spiritual,  believe  on  grounds 
purely  moral,  listening  to  the  prophecy  of  their  higher, 
rational  nature.  Some  of  the  more  intellectual  put  the 
matter  aside  as  of  no  pressing  concern,  and  say  that  they 
are  prepared  for  either  result— immortality  or  annihilation. 
They  are  willing  to  trust  the  Power  that  made  them. 
Sure  that  what  is  best  for  them  will  befall,  they  await, 
unanxious,  the  solution  of  the  mystery.  Says  Emerson  : 
"  Of  immortality  the  soul,  when  well  employed,  is  incu- 
rious. It  is  so  well  that  it  is  sure  it  will  be  well.  It 
asks  no  question  of  the  Supreme  Power.  Immortality  will 
come  to  such  as  are  lit  for  it ;  and  he  who  would  be  a 
great  soul  in  the  future,  must  be  a  great  soul  now." 

The  advent  of  Spiritualism  saved  the  popular  belief  in 
immortality  from  the  danger,  if  not  of  total,  yet  of  par- 
tial eclipse.  To  the  multitude  of  mankind  Spiritualism 
brought  a  new  revelation  ;  and  the  eagerness  with  which  it 
was  welcomed,  showed  the  need  of  it  that  was  felt.  Hun- 
dreds of  thousands — nay,  millions,  in  America  and  in 
Europe,  in  sober  England  and  mercurial  France — hailed 
the  promise  of  communication  with  rapture.  People  of 
every  degree  and  class — the  instructed  and  the  uninstruct- 
ed,  toilers  and  thinkers,  mechanics  and  mathematicians, 
merchants  and  men  of  letters,  tradesfolk  and  philosophers, 
physicians,  lawyers,  professors,  judges,  divines — investi- 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  £17 

gated  and  embraced  it.  It  met  the  crying  demand  for 
palpable  evidence,  for  substantial  and  incontrovertible 
facts.  It  challenged  the  experimental  method  of  modern 
science  :  it  courted  skepticism  ;  it  offered  proof  for  tradi- 
tion, law  for  miracle,  the  confirmation  of  the  senses  for 
the  dogma  of  faith.  It  came  to  the  doubting  disciple  and 
said:  "Reach  hither  thy  fingers,  and  behold  my  hand; 
reach  forth  thy  hand,  and  thrust  it  into  my  side,  and  be 
not  faithless  but  believing."  The  Baron  de  Guldenstubbe, 
of  Paris,  attests  that  more  than  fifty  persons— among 
whom  were  barons,  princes,  counts,  colonels,  physicians, 
men  of  culture,  and  artists  of  renown — witnessed  again 
and  again  the  astounding  phenomenon  of  direct  commu- 
nication by  writing  from  invisible  beings. 

That  a  belief  thus  attested  and  published  should  have 
spread  like  a  new  gospel  of  the  kingdom,  is  not  wonderful. 
It  would  have  been  wonderful  had  it  not.  It  was  what 
fthe  world  was  waiting  for.  It  came  as  answer  to  a  pas- 
sionate prayer;  it  was  the.  bringing  of  life  and  immor- 
tality to  light  that  desponding  mankind  groaned  for.  The 
shadowy  realm  came  into  view ;  the  gloomy  barriers  of 
the  sepulchre  disappeared  ;  the  dividing  flood  was  dried 
up  ;  voices  were  heard  from  the  Silent  Land  ;  the  bleak 
waste  of  the  Beyond  was  lively  with  happy  forms  ;  dirges 
changed  into  songs ;  the  raiment  of  mourning  fell  off. 
The  heart  reached  out  its  eager  hands  once  more,  and  was 
thankful  to  embrace  something  more  substantial  than  a 
shade.     The  "  family  in  heaven  and  earth  "  was  reunited. 

That  to  multitudes  Spiritualism  has  been  an  unspeak- 
able solace,  an  unmixed  boon  and  blessing,  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  doubt.  I  have  seen  the  sweet,  humanizing 
effects  of  it  too  many  times  not  to  be  persuaded  of  them. 
I  have  seen  it  reviving  hearts  and  refreshing  homes.  How 
far  its  benefits  have  been  qualified  by  the  beliefs  that  have 

10 


218  TEE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN. 

been  associated  with  it,  I  do  not  feel  called  on  to  deter- 
mine. Mr.  A.  J.  Davis,  a  high  authority,  declares  in 
effect  that  Spiritualism  has  abandoned  its  true  mission. 
Instead  of  persuading  the  unbelieving  world  of  the  exis- 
tence of  departed  spirits,  it  turns  to  the  spirits  and  calls 
on  them  for  oracles  and  information.  It  sets  up  the  trance 
speaker  in  place  of  the  rational  teacher ;  substitutes  the 
seance  for  the  church  ;  drops  the  old  revelation  through 
prophets  and  apostles,  only  to  promulgate  a  new  one 
through  mediums  •  discards  the  literature  of  Christendom 
for  the  "  inspirations  "  of  illiterate  men  and  women ;  and 
in  exchange  for  the  ancient  religions  of  mankind,  erects 
a  new  religion  on  ghostly  foundations.  The  mission  of 
Spiritualism,  according  to  Mr.  Davis,  is  to  convince  people 
of  their  immortality.  With  that  its  duty  began,  and 
when  that  is  done  its  duty  will  end.  If  it  would  accom- 
plish the  purpose  for  which  it  was  sent  into  the  world,  it 
must  retrace  its  mistaken  steps.  If  it  fails  to  do  so,  it 
will  not  only  forsake  its  calling,  but  will  fasten  on  the 
world  another  superstition  in  place  of  the  superstitions  it 
is  outgrowing,  and  will  alienate  from  it  both  men  and 
angels. 

To  the  weighty  criticism  of  Mr.  Davis,  I,  who  am  but 
a  thoughtful  looker-on,  shall  presume  to  add  nothing.  My 
purpose  has  been  to  show  some  of  the  many  doorways  into 
the  immortal  life.  The  mortal  certainty  does  put  on  im- 
mortality. In  many  forms  we  surely  live  again,  live 
eternally  and  for  ever.  We  cannot  die  if  we  would. 
Death  has  no  dominion  over  us.  We  may  live  in  the 
future  as  we  will,  cherishing  the  hope  that  most  inspires. 
If  we  crave  personal  immortality,  the  greatest  minds  and 
the  best  hearts  of  the  race  countenance  our  belief  in  it. 
If  we  are  unable  to  entertain  that  expectation,  there  re- 
mains the  other — an  immortality  of  wholesome  influence 


THE  IMMORTALITIES  OF  MAN.  219 

in  the  race.  If  that  seems  cold,  vague  and  bewildering, 
the  knowledge  that  we  may  live  in  the  hearts  and  souls  of 
those  who  love  us,  offers  a  kindling  anticipation  and  a 
tender  promise.  From  one  of  these  convictions — why 
not  from  all  ? — we  can  obtain  the  strength  and  the  conso- 
lation we  need ;  can  be  lifted  out  of  despondency,  and 
saved  from  the  folly  of  sordid  or  shameful  life.  The 
faith,  that  most  dignifies  and  consoles  is  the  best.  That  is 
the  noblest  conception  of  immortality  that  most  gloriously 
animates  and  irradiates  our  dust. 


XIII. 
THE  VICTORY  OYEE  DEATH. 

"  The  last  enemy  that  sliall  be  destroyed  is  death." — 1  Con.  xv.  28 

TO  trie  large  majority  of  mankind,  whether  reflecting 
or  unreflecting,  this  description  of  death  as  the  great 
enemy  will  seem  to  be  literally  true.  It  is  the  enemy  of 
whatever  in  existence  is  friendliest- —of  pleasure,  of  hap- 
piness, joy,  satisfaction,  mirth,  affection,  success,  pros- 
perity, greatness.  An  old  covered  bridge  at  Lucerne,  in 
Switzerland,  is  decorated  with  a  series  of  twenty-four 
pictures,  entitled,,  "  The  Dance  of  Death,"  representing 
the  "  king  of  terrors"  as  surprising  people  in  their  bliss- 
ful moments.  The  lover,  the  lord,  the  fine  lady,  the 
courtier,  the  prince,  the  merchant,  the  reveler,  the  soldier, 
each  at  the  most  critical  moment,  is  arrested  and  hurried 
away  from  the  place  of  honor  or  the  scene  of  delight.  It 
was  a  favorite  theme  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Painter,  poet 
and  satirist  celebrated  this  "  dance  of  death "  with  the 
grim  humor  that  was  characteristic  of  the  superstitious 
time.  Religion  kept  such  scenes  faithfully  before  the 
people's  mind,  and  the  people  welcomed  them  with  the 
ghastly  satisfaction  which  images  of  horror  ever  excite. 

The  dread  of  death  is  universal  and  instinctive  ;  and 
yet  how  many  rush  into  its  arms  !  Suicide  is  a  most  im- 
pressive fact  in  this  connection.  The  disappointed  lover, 
the  discouraged  adventurer,  the  suspected  clerk,  the  child 
wounded  in  its  self-love  or  fearful  of  punishment,  faces 


THE  VIC  TORT  OVER  DEATH.  ■  221 

the  great  enemy  and  invites  his  blow,.  Every  now  and 
then  the  community  is  shocked  by  suicides  so  unprovoked 
and  so  frequent,  as  almost  to  persuade  us  that  the  natural 
fear  of  death  is  passing  away. 

The  inconsistency  is  easily  explained.  Lord  Bacon  says 
there  is  no  passion  that  will  not  overmaster  the  terror  of 
death.  For  passion  is  thoughtless  ;  occupied  wholly  with 
an  immediate  suffering,  it  makes  no  estimate  of  any  other 
kind  of  pain  ;  absorbed  in  an  instantaneous  sorrow,  it  takes 
no  other  sorrow  into  account.  The  mind  entertains  but 
one  passion  at  a  time,  whether  it  be  joy  or  fear.  But  men 
are  not  always  or  generally  under  the  influence  of  passion. 
Ordinary  life  is  calm,  calculating,  considerate,  and  it  is  to 
ordinary  life  that  death  is  terrible. 

Tt  is  the  thought  of  death  that  is  terrible,  not  death. 
Death  is  gentle,  peaceful,  painless  ;  instead  of  bringing 
suffering,  it  brings  an  end  of  suffering.  It  is  misery's 
t-iire.  Where  death  is,  agony  is  not.  The  processes  of 
death  are  all  friendly.  The  near  aspect  of  death  is  gra- 
cious. 

There  is  a  picture  somewhere  of  a  /rightful  face,  livid 
and  ghastly,  which  the  beholder  gazes  on  with  horror,  and 
would  turn  away  from,  but  for  a  hideous  fascination  that 
not  only  rivets  his  attention,  but  draws  him  closer  to  it. 
On  approaching  the  picture  the  hideousness  disappears, 
and  when  directly  confronted  it  is  not  any  more  seen ;  the 
face  is  the  face-  of  an  angel.  It  is  a  picture  of  death,  and 
the  object  of  the  artist  was  to  impress  the  idea  that  the 
terror  of  death  is  in  apprehension.  Theodore  Parker, 
whose  observation  of  death  was  very  large,  has  said  that 
be  never  saw  a  person  of  any  belief,  condition,  or  experi- 
ence unwilling  to  die  when  the  time  came  ;  and  my  own 
more  limited  observation  confirms  the  truth  of  the  re 
mark.     Death  is  an  ordinance  of  nature,  and  like  every 


222  THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH. 

ordinance  of  nature  is  directed  by  beneficent  laws  to  bene- 
ficent ends.  "What  must  be,  is  made  welcome.  Necessity 
is  beautiful. 

But  no  sweetness  of  death  sweetens  the  apprehension 
of  death.  That,  save  to  the  philosophic  or  enfeebled  mind, 
is  seldom  otherwise  than  fearful.  Few  can  contemplate 
calmly  their  own  dissolution ;  few  look  quietly  forward 
to  the  termination  of  their  friend's  existence.  To  thou- 
sands, life  is  simply  an  effort  to  escape  from  death,  to 
avert  or  defer  the  evil  hour.  Disease  loses  half  its  terrors 
for  us  when  we  feel  sure  it  will  not  prove  fatal.  Years  of 
sickness,  of  weakness,  of  agony,  are  welcomed  in  prefer- 
ence to  death.  Old  people  who  have  nothing  left  either 
to  do  or  to  enjoy,  shrink  from  the  thought  of  dissolution. 
The  sentiment  whi<jh  Shakespeare  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Claudio,  in  "  Measure  for  Measure,"  expresses  the  com- 
mon feeling  of  the  average  of  mankind  : 

"  The  weariest  and  most  loathed  worldly  life 
That  age,  ache,  penury,  and  imprisonment 
Can  lay  on  nature,  is  a  paradise 
To  what  we  fear  of  death." 

The  terror  is  older  than  the  records  of  mankind,  and  it 
has  a  solemn  character  that  associates  it  with  doom.  There 
is  a  mystery  about  death.  It  seizes  on  the  imagination. 
Its  silence,  its  secrecy,  its  unavoidableness,  its  impartiality, 
its  pitilessness,  the  absence  in  it  of  anything  like  moral 
emotion,  its  refusal  to  be  questioned,  the  grim  irony  of*  its 
whole  procedure,  invest  it  with  an  awe  that  is  oj)pressive. 
There  seems  to  be  something  behind  it ;  some  vast  power, 
conscious  yet  insensible,  endowed  with  will,  but  wilful ;  a 
gloomy  power  that  nothing  can  break.  All  mysteries  are 
summed  up  in  that  of  death. 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH.  223 

"  From  the  globe  of  black  day  to  the  summit  of  Venus, 
I  traversed  all  the  difficulties  of  the  world ; 

Every  tie  which  was  fastened  around  me  by  deceit  and  illusion 
Was  loosened,  except  that  of  death." 

This  impression  of  death  must  have  been  made  late  in 
the  experience  of  the  human  mind.  Ages  must  have 
elapsed  before  it  was  indelibly  stamped  'there,  for  it  im- 
plies the  growth  of  reflection.  If  we  can  imagine  the 
time  when  the  human  race  was  hardly  distinguishable 
from  the  brute  creation, 'we  shall  perceive  that  no  terror 
of  death  could  have  existed.  Man  probably  had  at  this 
epoch  no  more  thought  of  death  than  the  beast  had.  Not 
till  he  had  separated  himself  by  development  from  the 
animal  creation,  and  in  some  respects  ranged  himself  un- 
der different  laws,  could  death  have  seemed  a  singular  or 
startling  event ;  and  even  then  the  state  of  violence,  war- 
fare and  perpetual  confusion  that  prevailed  everywhere, 
must  have  made  all  reflection  on  death  impossible. 

The  usual  accompaniments  of  death  concealed  its  char- 
acter. Individual  men  died  by  the  bite  of  the  serpent, 
the  claws  of  the  lion,  the  hug  of  the  bear,  the  spring  of 
the  panther,  the  tread  of  the  huge  beast,  the  fall  of  rocks, 
the  overflow  of  the  flood,  the  enemy's  club  or  spear.  Hun- 
ger, thirst,  cold,  carried  them  off  ;  war  and  famine  swept 
them  away  by  hundreds ;  but  there  was  always  a  visible 
cause,  palpable,  usually  violent,  commonly  sudden,  and 
the  effect  was  connected  strictly  with  the  cause.  Death 
was  associated  with  a  shock  of  some  kind.  There  were 
innumerable  isolated  facts  of  death,  but  there  was  no  law 
or  inevitable  sequence  of  death.  Death  without  a  weapon 
that  accounted  for  it  was  probably  unthought  of.  Of 
course  there  were  deaths  without  violence.  Women  and 
children  died ;  but  at  that  period,  and  for  ages  on  ages 
after,  women  and  children  were  of  no  account.     Old  men 


224  THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH. 

died  ;  but  not  many  men  lived  to  be  old,  and  the  few  who 
did  Avere  not  worth  considering.  Their  death  was  proba- 
bly hastened  by  the  violent  act  of  their  own  people,  who 
felt  that  they  were  a  useless  incumbrance.  Strong  men 
alone  were  considered  necessary  to  the  stability  of  the 
tribe.  Their  lives  alone  were  significant ;  their  fate  alone 
was  interesting. 

Not  until  hunting  and  war  had  to  some  extent  ceased 
to  be  the  universal  pursuits,  and  something  resembling  a 
condition  of  peace  had  begun — not  until  existence  had 
fallen  into  fixed  conditions  of  regular  habits,  could  any- 
thing like  a  sober  appreciation  of  the  phenomenon  of 
death  have  become  possible.  Then,  at  a  period  in  the  ca- 
reer of  man  comparatively  recent,  centuries  on  centuries 
after  the  epoch  just  described,  the  fact  may  have  broken 
on  the  human  mind  that  death  was  an  event  of  universal 
and  inevitable  occurrence  ;  that  it  came  to  all  alike — came 
at  all  times,  under  all  circumstances,  to  men,  women  and 
children — came  without  noise,  without  weapon  or  blood- 
shed— came  when  no'enemy  was  near,  when  the  wild  beast 
was  driven  far  off,  when  the  elements  were  quiet,  when 
the  flood  kept  its  natural  channel.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  the  conviction  began  to  gain  strength  that  there  was 
a  rowEii  or  death.  Not  yet,  however,  were  these  un in- 
structed people  able  to  conceive  of  what  we  call  the  law 
or  ordinance  of  death;  not  yet  were  they  able  to  think  of 
death  without  a  death  bringer,  an  enemy  who  killed  with 
malicious  intent.  There  was  no  more  a  visible  foe,  no 
more  a  distinct  foe  in  each  particular  instance  ;  the  slayer 
was  invisible ;  moreover,  there  was  but  one  universal 
slayer,  one'  enemy  for  all  mankind,  one  subtle,  diabolical 
adversary,  who  dwelt  in  the  mysterious  chambers  of  the 
air,  and,  invulnerable,  unassailable,  shot  his  vengeful  ar- 
rows into  human  hearts.     Who  was  this  awful  avenger? 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH.  225 

Who  was  this  remorseless  slayer?  Why  did  he  slay? 
"Why  did  he  hate?  What 'had  the  race  done  to  him  that 
lie  should  massacre  them  one  by  one,  never  sparing  an  in- 
dividual for  any  cause  whatsoever  ?  Could  he  not  be  dis- 
armed, placated,  bought  off  by  gifts  ?  Was  no  rescue,  no 
respite  possible? 

Then  we  may  suppose  began  the  earliest  •  efforts  at 
emancipation  from  the  dreadfid  curse.  The  priest  arose, 
charged  with  the  duty  of  making  intercession  with  the 
awful  destroyer.  Altars  were  built,  fires  were  kindled, 
sacrificial  knives  took  the  blood  of  innocent  beasts,  a  per- 
petual smoke  carried  aloft  to  the  dwelling  place  of  the 
frightful  king  the  gloomy  prayers  of  the  crouching  multi- 
tudes; sorcerers  practiced  charms,  soothsayers  muttered 
incantations,  jugglers  practiced  magical  arts ;  the  whole 
apparatus  of  superstition  was  called  into  play  to  rid  the 
race  of  its  curse,  and  procure  remission  from  the  destroyer. 
Religion  scarcely  had  a  purpose  distinct  from  that  of 
evading  the  necessity  of  death. 

By  the  side  of  the  priest  stood  the  physician,  with  his 
herbs  and  philters,  his  potations  and  talismans,  trying  to 
heal  the  wounds  the  priest  tried  to  prevent.  The  priest 
and  physician  were  brothers,  as  they  always  should  be. 
Their  officers  were  alike  ;  their  purpose  was  always  the 
same ;  they  waged  the  same  warfare,  in  the  same  interest, 
if  not  with  the  same  weapons  or  on  the  same  field.  Their 
common  enemy  was  death,  the  enemy  of  the  race.  Each 
to  some  extent  shared  the  duties  of  the  other.  Both  were 
sacred  persons,  holy  and  honored,  set  apart,  maintained  at 
public  cost,  endowed  with  special  privileges.  The  priest 
was  a  physician,  the  physician  was  a  priest.  The  priest 
had  the  gift  of  healing  by  his  touch ;  the  physician  had 
the  gift  of  expelling  evil  spirits.  Neither  could  do  his 
full  work  without  aid  from  the  other.     Approaching  the 


♦226  THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH. 

same  problem  from  different  sides,  they  frequently  met 
for  exchange  of  counsel  and  co-operation  of  endeavor.  At 
first  the  priest  overtopped  the  physician,  as  the  office  of 
placating  the  slayer  was  more  essential  than  the  office  of 
warding  off  the  deadly  arrows  which  still,  sooner  or  later, 
reached  their  mark.  Gradually  the  physician  acquired 
equal  eminence  with  the  priest,  for  the  priest's  interces- 
sion was  obviously  futile.  The  slayer  did  not  relent ;  no 
answer  came  to  the  supplication  ;  the  darts  fell  as  thickly 
as  ever  and  were  as  fatal.  Death  was  unavoidable ;  but 
it  might  be  postponed,  it  might  be  alleviated,  its  agony 
might  be  mitigated.  Men  bless  the  good  physician,  and 
well  they  may.  His  is  still  a  sacred  calling ;  his  is  the 
order  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  belongs  to  an  ancient  and 
noble  fraternity,  a  brotherhood  which,  in  all  times  and 
places,  has  been  in  league  against  death.  Grouped  in 
many  schools,  practicing  many  methods,  pursuing  many 
lines  of  study,  distinguished  by  many  titles,  wearing  many 
badges,  equipped  with  a  great  variety  of  arms,  they  all 
inarch  under  a  single  banner,  the  banner  on  which  is  inscrib- 
ed the  name  of  the  Prince  of  Life.  Every  honest  physician 
is  a  soldier  trained  for  this  great  war.  His  weapons  are 
the  plants,  the  herbs,  the  minerals;  air,  light,  water, 
electricity,  every  remedial  force  in  nature;  the  vital 
powers  of  the  frame,  the  laws  of  healthful  living.  With 
his  cunning  instruments  he  repairs  injury,  cuts  away  the 
diseased  parts  of  the  body,  mends  bruises,  heals  wounds. 
Faithfully  he  keeps  his  post,  standing  between  the  living 
and  the  doom  that  threatens  life.  It  is  his  mission  to  in- 
troduce life  safely  into  the  world,  to  protect  it,  to  come  to 
its  rescue  when  assailed,  to  mitigate  its  pains,  to  ease  its 
conditions,  to  nurture  its  powers,  to  prolong  its  term.  He 
snatches  the  little  children  from  the  clutches  cf  the  dark 
angel,  and  gives  them  back  to  their  mothers;  he  restores 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH  227 

parents  io  their  distressed  children  ;  he  gives  sleep  to  the 
restless ;  he  keeps  the  family  circle  together ;  he  is  the 
preserver  of  beauty,  and  strength,  and  virtue.  But  for 
him  the  power  of  death  would  indeed  be  felt  to  be  a 
curse ;  death  would  be  the  great  enemy.  But  the  physi- 
cian gains  no  victory  over  death.  He  baffles  it,  checks  it,, 
arrests  it,  puts  it  off,  disarms  it  of  its  agony,  compels  it  to 
wait  more  convenient  seasons,  makes  it  respect  conditions ; 
but  he  gains  no  victory  over  it.  Death,  in  spite  of  him, 
comes  to  all  at  last.  None  escape  ;  none  ever  will  escape. 
The  physician  cannot  save  himself  or  those  dearer  to  him 
than  himself.  It  is  touching  to  see  how  powerless  he  is  t'o 
strike  the  destroyer  down.  When  the  fatal  hour  comes, 
he  that  has  rescued  hundreds  cannot  rescue  his  wife,  his 
child ;  he  who  has  prevented  hundreds  from  falling  into 
the  grave,  stands  by  helplessly  and  sees  his  only  darling 
slip  over  the  edge  and  disappear.  All  the  medical  science 
of  the  century  avails  nothing  to  save  the  best  man  of  the 
century  when  his  hour  arrives ;  nor  can  we  imagine  the 
time  as  ever  coming  when  it  will. 

It  is  this  law,  this  power,  decree,  doom  of  death,  that 
so  impresses  the  imagination  of  the  world.  Paul  felt 
this  ;  it  was  never  absent  from  his  mind  ;  it  seems  to  have 
been  the  one  frightful  fact  to  him  in  all  the  universe  ;  it 
'  tinged  all  his  thought ;  it  is  the  key  to  the  secret  chambers 
of  his  speculation.  The  simple  historical  fact,  that  "  death 
reigned  from  Adam  to  Moses,  even  over  them  that  had 
not  sinned  as  Adam  did,"  was  a  fact  of  tremendous  sig- 
nificance in  his  view.  He  speaks  of  the  "  law  of  death," 
of  "  the  ministration  of  death,"  of  "  death  as  passing  on 
all  men."  The  unavoidabieness,  the  irresistibleness  of 
the  experience  overwhelmed  him.  Death  to  him  was  not 
a  fact  merely  ;  it  was  a  fact  with  a  terrible  power  behind 
it ;  it  was  a  doom,  a  curse,  a  penalty,     Paul  always  asso- 


228  THE  VICTORY  OYER  DEATH 

ciates  death  with  sin.  Sin  is  the  cause  of  death.  But 
for  sin  there  would  have  been  no  death  ;  for  "  Sin  came 
into  the  world  and  death  by  sin,  and  so  death  passed  upon 
all  men,  because  all  had  sinned."  "  The  sting  .of  death  is 
sin."  The  law  of  death  and  the  law  of  sin  are  the  same. 
Sin  was  the  mysterious  destroyer.  Break  his  dominion, 
and  death  is  abolished. 

Here  comes  in  the  Redeemer's  office.  He  came  to 
break  the  power  of  sin,  and  thus  strike  a  blow  at  the 
heart  of  death.  The  Christ  of  Paul  was  above  everything 
else  the  sinless  man.  This  was  his  peculiarity.  In  this 
lay  his  redeeming  power.  What  he  may  have  been  as 
teacher,  revealer  of  truth,  reformer,  exemplar  of  right- 
eousness, was  of  quite  secondary  import.  It  was  as  the 
sinless  man  that  he  saved — saved  from  death,  which  was 
the  great  salvation.  "  The  first  man  was  of  the  earth 
earthy  j  the  second  man  was  the  Lord  from  Heaven." 
"  The  first  Adam  was  a  living  soul,  a  vital  principle  ;  the 
last  Adam  was  a  quickening  spirit."  "  As  in  Adam  all 
die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive."  "  As  by 
one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin,  and 
so  death  passed  on  all  men,  because  all  have  sinned  ;  so 
the  grace  of  God,  and  the  gracious  gift  through  one  man, 
hath  abounded  unto  many."  "  The  law  of  life  in  Christ 
Jesus  hath  made  me  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death.." 
The  resurrection  of  Christ  was  thus  a  logical  necessity. 
~\Ye  may  almost  say  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  In 
advance  of  proof,  perhaps  in  advance  of  trustworthy  evi- 
dence, it  might  have  been  assumed  on  the  strength  of  the 
conviction  that  the  Christ  was  sinless.  At  all  events,  the 
least  hint,  the  faintest  rumor,  the  slightest  tradition  of  a 
resurrection,  would  have  been  sufficient  for  the  apostle's 
ardent  logic.  If  others  believed  it  on  any  ground  what- 
ever, Baul  was  ready  to  accept  an  opinion  that  jumped  so 
exactly  with  his  hope. 


THE  VICTOR  T  0  VER  DEA TIL  229 

The  sinless  man  could  not  die.  Christ  was  sinless, 
therefore  the  grave  did  not  hold  him.  The  preaching  of 
the  resurrection  was,  therefore,  the  great  business ;  that 
was  the  heart  of  the  gospel ;  everything  else  proceeded 
from  that.  The  sinless  Christ  institutes  an  order  of  sin- 
less men ;  the  risen  Christ  establishes  a  line  of  risen  men. 
"  Now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the  first- 
fruits  of  them  that  slept."  "  Every  man  in  his  own  order, 
Christ  the  first-fruits,  afterwards  they  that'  are  Christ's  at 
his  coming."  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  but  thanks  be 
to  God  who  has  given  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  "If  the  Spirit  of  Him  that  raised  up  Jesns 
from  the  dead  dwell  in  you,  He  that  raised  up  Christ  from 
the  dead  shall  also  quicken  you?'  mortal  bodies  by  His 
Spirit  that  dwelleth  within  you." 

This  language  is  to  be  read  "literally.  Paul  meant  ex- 
actly what  he  said,  nothing  more  and  nothing  less.  He 
meant  that  believers  in  Christ  were  not  to  die  any  more ; 
that  physical  death  was  for  them  abolished.  If  any  had 
already  died,  they  would  rise  in  bodies  of  light  on  the 
morning  when  the  Lord  should  descend  from  heaven  with 
a  shout  and  the  trumpet's  sound  ;  the  others  would  not 
die  at  all.  "  Behold,  I  show  you  a  mystery  ;  we  shall  not 
all  sleep  the  sleep  of  death,  but  we  shall  all  be  changed,  in  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  trumpet  shall 
sound,  and  the  dead  shall  be  raised  incorruptible,  and  we 
shall  be  changed.  These  corruptible  bodies  shall  put  on 
incorruption,  these  mortal  forms  shall  put  on  immortali- 
ty ;  "  and  when  all  this  occurs,  "  death  will  be  swallowed 
up  in  victory."  In  anticipation  of  this  wonderful  trans- 
formation, this  dropping  off  of  the  material  covering  and 
unfolding  of  immaterial  forms,  the  apostle  breaks  out  into 
rapturous  peans  of  joy ;  he  cannot  contain  his  transport. 
"O  death,"   he  cries,  "where   is   thy   sting!     O   grave, 


230  THE  VICTOR  T  0  YER  BE  A  TU. 

where  is  thy  victory ! "  Henceforth  none  need  die ;  all 
may  be  transfigured.  The  earth  need  never  again  be 
opened  to  receive  a  lifeless  body ;  the  carnal  part  was  to 
pass  away  like  an  exhalation,  and  be  no  more  seen.  For 
a  little  while  the  rapture  lasted ;  for  a  very  few  years  the 
small  company  of  men  and  women  who  cherished  the 
apostle's  faith,  lived  as  if  death  had  literally  "  no  dominion 
over  them."     Death  to  them  was  not 

"  So  much  even  as  the  lifting  of  a  latch  ; 
Only  a  step  into  the  open  air, 
Out  of  a  tent  already  luminous, 
With  light  that  shone  through  its  transparent  walls." 

The  dream  did  not  last  long.  The  laws  of  nature  soon 
dispelled  the  illusion.  One  by  one  the  company  of  be- 
lievers fell  asleep;  the  apostles  themselves  died  and  were 
buried  like  the  rest ;  no  trumpet  sounded,  no  Lord  ap- 
peared, no  grave  gave  up  its  tenant,  no  forms  of  light 
gleamed  in  the  air.  Faith  in  Christ  had  no  virtue  to  alter 
the  physiological  conditions  of  being,  to  adjust  the  rela- 
tions between  the  human  body  and  its  environment,  to 
prevent  the  occurrence  of  accident,  to  arrest  the  action  of 
hereditary  disease,  to  avert  the  consequences  of  impru- 
dence, ignorance,  folly,  to  render  harmless  the  sudden 
blow,  the  pestilence,  the  fever,  weakening  of  the  blood, 
paralysis  of  the  nerves.  The  constitution  of  things  re- 
mained as  it  had  been  from  the  beginning,  and  gave  no 
sign  of  interruption.  Death  was  as  inexorable,  as  impar- 
tial, as  remorseless  as  ever;  it  spared  the  believer  as  little 
as  the  unbeliever ;  it  respected  the  saint  no  more  than  the 
sinner. 

Victory  over  death,  then,  was  not  to  be  hoped  for. 
The  only  victory  that  might  perhaps  be  achieved,  was 
victory  over  the  fear  of  death.  To  dethrone  the  king 
being  impossible,  the  only  feasible  attempt  was  to  deprive 


THE  VICTOR  T  0  VEB  BE  A  TH.  231 

him  of  his  terrors.  This  the  church  undertook.  There 
was  the  sepulchre ;  but  a  doorway  could  be  opened  out  of 
it.  The  dark  river  still  rushed  on  ;  but  lights  could  be 
set  on  the  further  shore.  The  believer  must  see  corrup- 
tion, but  need  not  remain  in  it.  Faith  in  Christ  could  not 
save  from  death,  that  was  certain  ;  but  it  could  save  from 
the  bitterness  of  death.  The  death-bed  of  the  believer 
was  declared  to  be  soft  and  downy,  his  last  hours  peaceful, 
his  departure  a  sweet  release,  his  unconsciousness  a  pleas- 
ant sleep,  his  final  thoughts  and  experiences  happy.  Angel 
faces  were  imagined  in  his  chamber  ;  glimpses  of  the  risen 
Lord,  such  as  were  granted  to  the  early  saints,  were 
promised.  Of  the  "agony,  the  shroud,  the  pall,  the 
breathless  darkness  and  the  narrow  house,"  nothing  was 
said.  The  teaching  was  all  of  the  spiritual  form  that 
could  not  perish — of  the  risen  Saviour,  of  the  waiting 
angels,  of  the  "  green  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood," 
and  sunny  mansions,  and  deathless  songs,  and  fadeless 
flowers,  of  crowms  and  snow-white  garments.  Nothing 
was  omitted  that  might  help  to  make  complete  the  victory 
over  the  ancient  terror.  The  church,  through  all  its 
voices,  gave  lessons  of  cheer :  flutes  and  dulcimers  were 
sweet  substitutes  for  the  clangor  of  the  last  trump. 

"With  a  hope  like  this,  Christendom  ought  to  stand  on 
jubilant  feet  and  welcome  death  with  smiles.  It  should 
count  the  fear  of  death  a  shame  and  a  sin  ;  it  should  pro- 
nounce the  natural  terror  of  dissolution  an  infidelity.  ISTot 
once  in  a  year  should  its  Easter  day  be  celebrated  ;  every 
day  of  death  should  be  a  glorious  Easter;  every  grave 
should  be  a  gateway ;  every  funeral  mound  a  mount 
of  ascension  ;  a  festive  hour  should  be  the  hour  of  trans- 
figuration, and  it  should  be  greeted  with  murmurs  of 
thanksgiving  and  hymns  of  praise,  by  people  with  radiant 
faces  and  shining  robes.     The  hour  of  death  should  be 


232  THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH. 

greeted  more  joyously  than  the  hour  of  birth,  as  the  hour 
that  ushers  the  immortal  being  into  a  cloudless,  tearless 
world.  And  so  it  would  be  but  for  one  drawback,  one 
fatal  qualification,  less  serious  to  the  devout  unquestioning 
member  of  the  Roman  church  than  to  the  .thoughtful  be 
lievers.of  Protestant  communions,  whose  faith  is  a  private 
conviction  resting  on  personal  experience.  The  Romanist 
reposes  in  the  assurance  of  the  church ;  the  Protestant 
must  have  the  assurance  of  his  heart ;  for  him,  therefore, 
the  qualification  I  speak  of  is  of  the  gravest  conse- 
quence. 

The  victory  was  promised  to  believers  only  ;  to  all  others 
death  remained  terrible  as  before,  nay,  a  thousand  times 
more  terrible.  To  the  unbeliever  it  was  represented  as 
the  awful  power  that  dragged  him  before  his  judge  for 
sentence.  ,  "  Afterwards  they  that  are  Christ's,"  said 
Paul.  His  hope  was  for  none  besides.  ""When  thou 
hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  thou  didst  open 
the  gates  of  heaven  to  all  believers"  said  the  ancient  Te 
Deum.  Death  to  the  unbeliever  was  painted  in  the  most 
hideous  colors.  To  him  the  last  hours  were  hours  of  phy- 
sical and  mental  agony  ;  doubt  and  dread  took  hold  on 
him ;  his  bed  was  a  bed  of  coals ;  no  visions  of  beauty 
dawned  on  his  sight,  but  ghastly  shapes  haunted  his  fancy ; 
his  chamber  was  infested  with  evil  spirits,  demons  glared 
at  him  in  the  night,  imps  of  hell  grinned  and  gibbered  by 
his  pillow  ;  he  tasted  in  advance  the  bitterness  of  perdi- 
tion. It  was  taken  for  granted  that  the  death  of  the  un- 
believer was  horrible;  no  evidence  to  the  contrary  was 
admitted.  Priests  took  the  liberty  of  declaring,  against 
all  proof,  that  infidels  like  Yoltaire,  Rousseau,  Paine, 
suffered  in  dying  the  torments  of  the  damned.  They 
knew  it ;  they  could  not  have  died  in  peace  ;  all  appear- 
ances   to   the   contrary  must   be   regarded  as  deceptive. 


THE  VICTOR  T  0  VER  DEA  TU.  233 

Whatever  the  by-standers  may  have  seen  and  heard  was 
delusion.  The  unbelieving  heart  in  its  inmost  recesses 
must  have  known  its  own  condition,  must  have  -felt  the 
tooth  of  the  devouring  worm. 

•  But  who  can  be  sure  that  he  is  one  of  the  true  believ- 
ers ?  There  is  the  terrible  question  that  constantly  recurs 
to  reflecting  minds,  and  that  makes  the  apprehension  of 
death  more  bitter  within  Christendom  than  it  ever  was 
without.  To  the  natural  dread  of  dissolution  is  added 
the  unspeakable  dread  of  that  which  may  come  after  dis- 
solution— the  fear  of  perdition  for  one's  friends,  if  not 
for  one's-self.  The  thought  of  death  has  been  made  ap- 
palling beyond  description  by  this  dreadful  uncertainty — 
an  uncertainty  which  weighed  most  cruelly  upon  the  most 
conscientious,  and  most  frightfully  tormented  those  who 
had  the  best  right  to  peace.  Horrible  misgivings  gather- 
ed about  the  bed-side  of  the  so-called  believer.  The 
priest  sat  by  close,  trying,  to  extract  comforting  admissions 
4rom  the  weak,  distracted  mind — questioning,  cross-ques- 
tioning, taking  down  words,  noting  expressions,  watching 
the  changing  lights  in  the  eye,  hanging  on  the  faintest 
breath,  doing  all  in  his  power  to  insure  a  triumphant 
passage  through  the  dark  valley.  The  most  miserable 
death-beds  have  been  the  death-beds  of  the  saints,  whose 
hearts  were  tenderest.  The  callous  suffered  nothing. 
The  believers  had  misgivings;  the  unbelievers  went  their 
way  untroubled.  Few  men  ever  feared  the  thought  of 
death  as  the  believing,  devoted,  excellent  Cowper  did, 
and  his  experience  was  by  no  means  a  peculiar  one. 
Certainly  no  "  infidel "  we  know  of  has  suffered  so. 
The  •"  qualification  "  preyed  on  Cowper' s  heart.  This 
is  the  reason  why^he  victory  was  not  won.  It  was  im- 
possible to  tell  who  deserved  it,  and  the  fear  that  one 
might  not  deserve  it  added  to  the  ancient  enemy  a  sting, 


234  THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH. 

the  poison  whereof  was  deadly  and  could  not  be  ex- 
tracted. 

Happily,  this  cause  of  defeat  is  now  in  great  measure 
removed.  The  "liberal  believers"  have  modified  and  in 
some  respects  completely  changed  the  conditions  of  suc- 
cessful battle  with  this  formidable  foe.  The  technical 
belief  in  Christ  is  not  by  them  demanded.  Immortality 
is  declared  to  be  the  common  inheritance  of  mankind, 
the  general  privilege  of  human  nature.  By  virtue  of  his 
intelligence,  his  affection,  his  moral  will,  the  power  of  his 
personality,  man  is  pronounced  invulnerable  to  death.  It  is 
contended  that  being  continues  precisely  as  it  was  before; 
that  individuality  persists,  that  consciousness  is  uninter- 
rupted, that  love  easily  overleaps  the  dividing  space  between 
one  sphere  of  existence  and  another ;  that,  in  fact,  no  divid- 
ing space  exists ;  that  death  is  but  a  change  of  form, 
affecting  outward  conditions  merely — a  change  which,  so 
far  from  being  a  shock,  a  convulsion,  is  a  process  in  the 
orderly  growth  of  the  spiritual  being.  The  terrors  of  the 
world  beyond  are  also  abolished,  the  abyss  of  hell-  is 
covered  up,  the  vengeful  demons  have  disappeared,  the 
flames  are  quenched,  the  instruments  of  torture  are  laid 
by,  the  burning  sandy  wastes  are  reclaimed  and  converted 
into  delicious  gardens.  Where  the  devils  lurked,  the 
angels  wander;  where  the  damned  writhed  in  agomT,  the 
children  play ;  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  covers  the  whole 
plain  of  the  hereafter. 

To  all  who  believe  thus — and  the  number  of  them  is 
increasing  day  by  day — death  is  virtually  abolished.  The 
grave  is  filled  up  and  planted  with  flowers ;  the  hour  of 
departure  is  the  hour  of  release,  the  hour  of  new  birth, 
hour  of  freedom,  of  expansion,  of  joy,  hour  of  answer  to 
life's  cpiestion,  of  reward  for  life's  labor,  of  fruition  to 
life's  hope,  of  achievement  to  life's  endeavor,  of  deliver- 


THE  VICTOR  T  0  YEB  BE  A  TU.  235 

ance  from  life's  burden  and  sorrow.     To  these  the  old 
conflict  is  over,  never  to  be  renewed. 

"  This  is  the  hud  of  heing,  the  dim  dawn, 
The  twilight  of  our  day,  the  vestibule. 
Life's  theatre  as  yet  is  shut,  and  Death, 
Strong  Death,  alone  can  heave  the  massy  bar, 
And  make  us  embryos  of  existence  free." 

All  this  time  physiology  has  been  busy  undermining  the 
foundations  of  the  old  fear.  With  its  tine  instrument,  sci- 
ence, with  its  unerring  method,  it  has  made  its  careful  ap- 
proaches and  drawn  its  firm  parallels,  till  at  length  the  cit- 
adel has  been  forced  to  surrender.  Reason  tells  us  that 
death  is  an  ordinance  of  nature,  an  institution  of  the  or- 
ganic world,  a  provision  of  Providence  ;  inevitable  because 
beneficent;  inevitable  as  the  development  of  life  on  the 
planet  is  inevitable;  admirable  as  the  order  of  the  world 
is  admirable.  It  has  its  place  along  with  those  indispen- 
sable agencies  of  progress  which  cannot  be  altered  without 
unsettling  the  fundamental  plan  of  creation ;  it  has  its 
mission  by  the  side  of  the  benignant  powers  that  bring 
creation  to  its  perfection. 

When  the"  force  that  lies  concealed  in  the  germ-cell  of 
the  human  organization  is  spent,  death  removes  the  frame, 
now  serviceable  no  longer,  to  the  vast  laboratory  where  na- 
ture converts  the  worn-out  material  of  the  universe  into 
forms  of  new  use  and  beauty.  The  cast-off  garments  reap- 
pear in  the  beauteous  vesture  of  tree  and  grass,  and  flower, 
and  yellow  harvest ;  not  an  atom  of  refuse  but  has  its  love- 
ly resurrection.  When  the  last  scene  of  existence  is  ready 
to  close  and  the  play  is  over,  death  gives  the  signal  and  lets 
the  curtain  fall.  But  for  him  the  tiresome  acts  would  drag 
on,  scene  after  scene,  when  the  meaning  was  exhausted  ; 
but  for  him  feebleness  would  continue  its  useless  being, 
drooping,  complaining,  whining,  wearing  out  strength  and 


230  THE  VICTORY  OYER  DEATH. 

cheerfulness — a  burden  to  itself,  an  incumbrance  to  others, 
a  dead  weight  on  all.  He  dismisses  the  tired  actors  and 
actresses  to  their  rest.  Tithonus,  beloved  of  Eos,  the 
dawn,  obtained  from  the  gods  the  boon  of  immortality  on 
earth  ;  but  the  foolish  boy  forgot  to  ask  for  the  accompa- 
nying gift  of  perpetual  youth.  His  organization  wasted 
and  Mrore  out  while  his  years  ran  on.  His  immortality  was 
an  endless  misery.  He  was,  by  his  own  prayer,  con- 
demned to  the  horror  of  being  unable  to  die. 

When  space  is  needed  for  the  new  generations  that  come 
crowding  on,  death  gently  clears  the  way  for  them.  One 
generation  goes  that  another  may  come.  The  bright, 
strong  children  appear,  line  on  line,  rank  on  rank,  and  en- 
ter on  their  heritage.  They  bring  new  eyes  for  the  land- 
scape, new  ears  for  the  music,  new  hands  for  the  work. 
They  break  upon  the  scene  with  shouts  of  joy ;  they  swarm 
over  the  welcoming  earth  ;  they  try  their  bright  minds  on 
the  old  questions ;  they  p>ress  their  brave  hearts  against 
the  old  experiences.  The  departure  of  the  old  makes 
their  advent  possible,  gives  them  room  and  opportunity. 
We  smile  on  death  when  we  greet  these  with  smiles ;  we 
drop  tears  of  tenderness  on  the  grave  when  we  drop  tears 
of  gratitude  on  the  cradle  in  which  these  are  rocked.  The 
earth  is  not  big  enough  for  all  at  once. 

"  All  tilings  that  Ave  love  and  cherish, 
Like  ourselves,  must  fade  and  perish; 
Such  is  our  rude  mortal  lot, 
Love  itself  would,  did  they  not. " 

It  is  death  that  flings  open  the  hospitable  doors  and  bids 
the  crowd  of  new-comers  to  the  feast  of  life.  That  so 
many  laugh  and  sing ;  that  so  many  eat  the  ambrosia  of 
life,  and  sip  its  nectar ;  that,  after  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  of  years,  the  beauty  of  the  world  is  still  new, 
the  order  of  the  world  still  enchanting,  the  routine  of  the 


TEE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATE.  237 

world  still  interesting,  the  joy  of  the  world  still  intoxicat- 
ing, the  problem  of  the  world  still  inviting,  the  work  of 
the  world  still  engaging;  that  the  experiences  of  life, 
though  millions  of  times  repeated,  do  not  lose  their  zest — 
all  this  we  owe  to  the  benignant  ministry  of  death. 

But  for  death,  no  gain,  no  improvement,  no  endeavor, 
no  progress,  no  fresh  intelligence,  no  renewed  will.  For 
the  new  search  there  must  be  new  curiosity ;  for  the  new 
curiosity,  new  impulse ;  for  the  new  impulse,  new  organ- 
ization. Humanity  rolls  on  in  successive  waves,  one 
swiftly  following  another,  each  pushing  further  than  the 
last.  No  single  generation  secretes  the  force  that  is  avail- 
able for  all  time ;  it  is  given  in  portions  to  every  age  in 
turn.     Death  marks  the  pulsations  of  the  heart-beats. 

The  law  of  death  is  thus  a  law  of  progress.  The  beauty 
of  the  wrorld  demands  death  for  its  appreciation  ;  the  re- 
sources of  the  world  demand  death  for  their  development ; 
the  beneficence  of  the  world  demands  death,  that  it  may 
be  shared  ;  the  glory  of  the  world  demands  death,  that  the 
myriads  of  mankind  may  behold  it  with  freshly  wonder- 
ing eye  ;  the  intellectual  and  moral  grandeurs  of  the  world 
demand  death,  that  they  may  be  perfectly  understood  ; 
earth  and  heaven  alike  demand  death.  It  is  the  child  of 
the  perfect  wisdom  and  the  primeval  love. 

To  mortals,  death  still  has  its  agonies  and  terrors ;  but 
the  time  will  come  when  the  advent  of  death  will  be  as 
sweet  as  its  intention.  The  time  is  coming  when  the  con- 
ditions of  life  wTill  be  better  comprehended,  and  the  laws 
of  life  be  more  implicitly  obeyed ;  when  children  will  be 
more  healthfully  born  and  more  wisely  nurtured,  when 
physical  excesses  will  be  diminished,  when  the  secrets  of 
organization  will  be  discovered,  and  remedies  be  mul- 
tiplied for  human  ills,  and  rules  of  prevention  be  adopted, 
and  liabilities  of  accident,  be  reduced  in  number  by  carer 


238  THE  VICTORY  OVER  DEATH. 

fulness,  and  peace  be  made  between  the  organization  and 
its  environment,  and  hereditary  taints  be  worked  out  of 
the  blood.  Then  the  last  enemy  will  indeed  be  destroyed  ; 
death  will  be  a  sleep  ;  man  will 

"  So  live  that  when  the  summons  comes  to  join 

A  The  innumerable  caravan  that  moves 
To  that  mysterious  realm  "where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death, 
He.'ll  go,  not  like  the  quarry  slave  at  night, 
Scourged,  to  his  dungeon,  but,  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  his  grave 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


.  ' 


^ 


b$& 


x 


*8,<iffc» 


■MM  3 


tafll 


Form  L-9-15m-7,'3i 


AA    001  114  055    5 


1! 


n 


